#learned and have only been behind the wheel 3 times and none of them have actually counted bc im just developing basic motor skills

[pepprs]

discovered miah_pie on t*ktok (<- i don’t have one btw i just stumbled upon her bc someone i follow on ig talked abt her) and her videos make me want to cry so bad. 24 year old dependent moment

[hard-core-super-star]

make you mine this season [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x barton!reader

summary: a badly timed snowstorm leaves you unable to make it to the barton farm for christmas. thankfully, a certain archer shows up to keep you company.

warnings: none, i think? just really cheesy, holiday rom-com type of fluff [i say this as if i've watched any holiday rom-com besides happiest season and the holiday 😶]; kate's a dork [wow, what a shock]; idiots in love; past mentions of bishova; bad jokes?; snowstorm; cheesy gifts bc kate can't talk about her feelings

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: HI, EVERYONE, I'M ALIVE! and it wouldn't be a rubix fic if it WASN'T posted a little late 😅 i hope you all had a fantastic holiday season and that you'll accept this very cheesy Christmas fic <3 [and maybe that last line is very self-indulgent but that's none of your business, if you know you know]

* * * * * * *

You’re no stranger to loneliness but things were bordering on ridiculous. Not only have you spent the past two years ridiculously in love with a certain purple-loving archer, you’re also on the verge of spending Christmas by yourself thanks to the worst-timed snowstorm of all time.

And maybe the first part of your unfortunate situation is your fault but that doesn’t stop the waves of disappointment from crashing into you.

This year was supposed to be different. 

That’s what you had told yourself in an effort to convince yourself to tell the young archer about your feelings for her. It was a strategy that almost worked…until a certain blonde decided to accept Kate’s offer for drinks…which turned into a date…which turned into a second date…which turned into the longest four months of your life.

You could never be one to be mad at someone else’s happiness but that didn’t stop you from feeling absolutely defeated every time you saw them together. There was no one to blame except you for the brunette’s lack of knowledge about your feelings and that only made everything worse.

It was impossible to ignore the ache in your chest when your eyes met Kate’s or the heavy jealousy that clouded most of your interactions with her. Maybe if you had been less into your head about the whole thing, you would have realized the way the archer’s smile never seemed to reach her eyes. 

Eyes that followed you every time you walked away.

You never noticed the traces of darkness that clung to her usually radiant persona but you were the first person at her side when the break up happened. She offered little to no details besides an awkward joke about the relationship ending almost exactly where it started right at the Rockefeller tree.

It was messed up in a way that made Kate want to make as many jokes about it as possible which resulted in you laughing at things that definitely weren’t funny and were just sad. Not as sad as spending the holidays completely alone and hopelessly in love with your best friend, though.

You were sure the archer was already well on her way to your dad’s farm which leaves you completely unprepared when the door to your apartment swings open to reveal her. She almost drops the key in her hand the second she realizes you’re home.

“What’re you doing here?” You question, doing your best to pretend you don’t see the gift bags she tries to hide behind her back.

You can practically see the wheels turning in her head before she’s finally able to respond. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at Clint’s?”

It’s hard not to laugh at the incredulous look on her face. No matter how many times you see it, it’s still as endearing as the first time. Back when she was just your dad’s protege and you hadn’t spent so many of your days learning the ins and outs of her complicated personality.

“Did the incoming snowstorm happen to slip your mind?”

“No, I just thought you’d want to go anyway,” she replies with a small shrug. 

“I’d rather not crash, Lila will never let me hear the end of it.”

Your words make her tilt her head to the side, the slightest hint of a pout on her face. “So…what, you’re just going to spend Christmas alone?”

“Yup. Kate, I’m not a kid anymore, nothing will happen if I spend one day by myself.”

“But it’s Christmas!” She exclaims, looking borderline offended that you’re so comfortable spending the holiday alone. 

“Is that why you’re breaking into my apartment?” You ask in a foolish attempt to stop yourself from asking her to spend the day with you. 

Just because she thought about you long enough to come drop off her, no doubt ridiculously expensive, gifts for you does not mean she wants to spend the holiday with you when she could easily spend it with anyone else.

The pink hue that overtakes her cheeks is a better gift than anything that could be inside the bags in her hand. “Well, uh…maybe…”  

She finally gathers enough courage to get rid of the distance between you with a bright, albeit nervous, smile on her face. You half-expect her to launch into some long ramble about why she just couldn’t stop herself from buying an insane amount of gifts for you this year but she doesn’t. 

For once in her life, Kate Bishop makes things easy for herself.

“I didn’t think I was going to make it to the farm on time so I was just going to drop these off for you…” She holds out the bag for you and you do your best to calm the rapid beating of your heart as you take it.

“Can I open it right now or will you get embarrassed?” 

“Both,” she replies through a chuckle. “I would leave but I don’t want you to be lonely.”

“Right, because I’m the one who gets lonely.”

“Shut up.”

It’s both a blessing and a curse to have broken through the archer’s defenses and right now, her cute reactions are beginning to feel like a curse. Although, that might just be your unrequited feelings talking.

A slightly awkward silence settles over both of you while you rifle through the overwhelming amount of purple tissue paper until you find your gift. You’re expecting another expensive necklace, maybe a bracelet this time, but what you’re met with is the most thoughtful gift you’ve ever received…and probably the most thoughtful gift Kate has ever given.

What you end up pulling out of the bag is a leather journal with a beautiful engraving of yours and Kate’s initials. “Kate…is this-”

“Yeah, I, um…I couldn’t find a photo album that I liked so I sort of…made my own.”

You can’t stop yourself from flipping through the first couple of pages, caught somewhere between the euphoria of being given something so beautiful and the disappointment that comes with knowing it all only serves to fuel your love for the archer. 

Love you can’t express the way you want to.

Love that’s hidden between the pages of the journal you hold in your hands. 

You don’t notice and Kate isn’t really in a hurry to watch you read the series of rambles that make up her overdue confession so she lets the moment fade like she always has. It’s not like you can blame her for wanting to move on to something else, her lack of focus isn’t necessarily a secret, and you let yourself get carried away by her jokes and her stubborn need to make mac and cheese for you.

The archer manages to cook without setting your kitchen on fire and the two of you settle on your couch to watch the first cheesy Christmas movie you find. In all honesty…the movie is awful but the corny jokes make Kate laugh so you can’t find it in yourself to be too grumpy about the shitty writing.

Until the scene in front of you reminds you of the archer and her ex. You’re unable to hold back the jealousy-tinted snarkiness said reminder brings out of you. “I think Yelena watched this movie and then decided to be a dick just like the main character.”

Kate instantly turns toward you, staring at you with wide eyes that barely hide her amusement. “What?”

“What?” You feign confusion to avoid having to repeat yourself.

“You know what,” she replies with an eyeroll. “If I’m the one who got broken up with, why are you the one that’s still upset?”

“Because- wait, why are you not upset?”

Your uno-reverse of a response leaves Kate speechless for a few seconds and you prepare yourself for the series of jokes that will no doubt leave her mouth next. 

But Kate’s never been predictable.

“Because…she didn’t break my heart. She didn’t even own it in the first place.”

Her words spark the low flames of hope hidden in the depths of your heart. It feels impossible and if you were a believer, you might even say Santa’s on your side, helping to give you the one thing you’ve wished for more nights than you can count.

And yet you hesitate.

“What are you trying to say?” You ask, your voice so soft it borders on cautious.

“That I’m an idiot,” she replies with that same bright smile that made you fall for her so long ago. “And…I’d really like to kiss you.”

The world seems to slow down to a complete stop at that moment. 

You almost don’t even know what to do with yourself. Thankfully, you manage to kick yourself into action before the moment passes.

Kate’s awkwardness seems to disappear into thin air as she leans in toward you, meeting you halfway for the softest, sweetest, kiss you’ve ever had. And maybe nothing about it is perfect but it’s you and her and that’s all that matters for now.

[twstwinnie]

Oh gosh I just stumbled on your writings your writing is so nice!, and I loved in a relationship with jamil and floyd they were so good 😭,im sorry if your getting a buncha these now may I request in a relationship with azul if thats ok?

✎ With You ~ Azul Ashengrotto

summary: the highly requested in a relationship with Azul! usual three categories! crushing, confession, and dating!

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, gn! reader

a/n: I adore azul— this just took me forever bc of writer’s block! but!! here he is! i’ll probably spin a wheel for who I do next, but if you’re curious, the current requested are: jack, epel, sebek, kalim, riddle, jade, and vil! so if you were looking out for them, they’re coming soon! also, i‘ve been considering making a tag list, so yeah! anyway, enjoy azul!! — winnie <3

✎ starry - eyed !

» Azul is the type to vehemently deny any feelings he may have towards you. When you first met, he assumed that his interest in you was nothing more than seeing you as a potential business prospect. He kept a close eye on you, but as time went on, his excuses became feeble in the face of what he felt.

» He’d keep insisting that your meetups are “business research,” even going as far as taking notes after every meeting in hopes to convince himself that that’s all it was. However, as time goes on, he finds that he doesn’t even think about finances or his business when he’s with you. He becomes entirely invested in conversations with you and the happenings of your life.

» Upon realizing that he isn’t doing the “research” he foolishly told himself he was doing, his avoidant tactics only increase in strength. He didn’t like you— he couldn’t.

» He wants to convince himself that it’s bad business to get emotionally involved— that there’s no room for romance in his world, but deep down, he knows it’s all an excuse. Truth be told, Azul is terrified at the prospect of liking you.

» With his history of bullying, Azul doesn’t have much of a positive self-image. The people close to him know that his confidence is fragile, and the bravado he hides behind is built on a foundation of power. However, when it comes to the romance world, Azul is playing on an even field with everyone else that may like you.

» In such a world, Azul fears that he has nothing to offer you.

» You’re kind and generous in a way no one else is. Azul’s underhanded tactics aren’t a suitable offering for you. And if power and money doesn’t appeal to you— what then? What can Azul possibly offer to you? What did he have that made him the most suitable option out of the countless people vying for your hand?

» Nothing. That’s what. That’s why Azul cannot like you. Because if he did, it’d be futile.

» There is no contract. He’d be giving his whole heart to you with no guarantee that you’d give anything in return. He’d leave himself vulnerable to being positively crushed by rejection. He could handle losing in business— such losses came with the field, but in love? Tell him— what proven strategies can be put in place to prevent pain or heartbreak? What insurance is there when your heart is tattered with the pain of rejection?

» There is none, and Azul knows this for certain. However, as time goes on, he finds himself unable to deny his feelings any longer as he spends more time with you.

» You happily listen to his business ramblings, propose event ideas for the Lounge, and you’ve even mastered the art of reigning in the Leech Twins. You fit in so perfectly into his life, but that only terrifies him more. He finds himself scared of losing you, but unable to commit himself to the idea of being infatuated by you.

» In response to this standstill, he draws away from you. This way, he becomes used to your absence instead of your presence. Then, should you learn of his feelings, the rejection won’t feel as harsh.

» What he doesn’t anticipate, however, is that you take notice. You recognize this behavior almost immediately. Not only that, you call him out on it.

» “Azul, why are you avoiding me?” you ask as you walk into the VIP room. Azul pauses, surprised at your sudden presence.

» “I— well… What gave you such an idea?” he questions, attempting to play oblivious. You roll your eyes.

» “Ashengrotto. I know you better than most. I can see through that farce of yours. I’m not mad or anything, I’m just worried,” you say as you sit in front of him. “Is it the lounge? Studying? Do you need my help with something?”

» The gentleness in your tone warms his heart. His face flushes red involuntarily. “What would you want in return?” he questions. You laugh.

» “This again? Nothing, Azul. I just want to help you because I like seeing you happy. So? Did something happen?” you ask, tilting your head curiously. Azul looks away, biting back a fond smile.

» He supposes that, if you’re offering, he might as well get clarification on his situation. Of course, he does so without telling you it’s about you.

» After he explains everything, you hum a bit.

» “Well, why are you so hung up on what you bring to the table?” you inquire. Azul halts.

» “Pardon?” Azul tilts his head.

» “Well, what I mean is that a relationship isn’t transactional, y’know? It’s not about if you can bring ‘power’ or ‘money’ to a relationship. In fact, I’d say that that’s useless,” you insist. Azul hums.

» “Then, what do you suppose is the most important quality?” he asks.

» You smile softly. “Aside from being a decent person? Whether or not the person you like likes you back. I know you don’t like things being out of your control, but that’s the truth. I mean— you like this person because you simply enjoy their company, right? Not because they bring anything to you,” you explain. Azul nods.

» “That… is correct,” he mumbles.

» “Exactly. So, who’s to say it’s any different for them? If they like your company, that’s more than enough. They won’t need power, fame, money, or any of that. In a relationship, you and your effort are enough, Azul.”

» Azul’s eyes go wide as you explain that to him. While yes, it’s a simple concept, it’s something an over thinker like him easily forgets. He can’t help but smile softly and thank you for your advice.

» It’s then and there that he decides he must confess to you. Not only did he already like you, but the way you approached his problem with a level head and a kind demeanor only solidified to him that you completed him. When he approached a situation with logic, you reminded him that sometimes, it was better to be emotional. And when he got too emotional, you grounded him with logic. Above all else, though, you support him through so much.

» And Azul is nothing if not competitive. He refused to lose to someone else. He had to show initiative and confess to you first. If he does, you’d know how serious he is about you.

» With that, he quickly starts drafting up a few ideas.

✎ say the words !

» In the journey to come up with the perfect confession to win your affections, Azul faces many obstacles. The biggest one being his competition.

» Azul tasked Jade and Floyd to keep tabs on people who also sought your companionship. This resulted in the knowledge that, apparently, you were getting confessed to on a near weekly basis. Jade mentioned a few names, but they were all faceless students that he didn’t quite remember.

» While Floyd, with a strangely giddy expression, would always report that you rejected the potential suitor, Azul still became nervous. Would the next confession be a rejection, or would you accept? How would his confession stand out amid so many others? Were you even interested in romance, or did you already have someone else in mind?

» Eventually, Azul decides that collaboration is the best way to go about it. Attempting to find an idea himself is like talking into an echo chamber— it results in no progress. Initially, he turns to the twins for assistance, but they both give him eerie smiles. Instead of helping, they insist that it’s “fun to watch him figure things out,” thus denying any assistance.

» Azul knows he won’t be able to convince them otherwise, so he seeks help elsewhere. He considers a few options: Jamil, Riddle, and Ruggie, but ultimately decides that those are people he’d rather not be open and vulnerable with. Eventually, he settles on discussing the matter with Idia during their club hours. While he was certain the other lacked romantic knowledge, he at least knew that he’d receive brutal honesty in regards to the situation.

» “Idia. I have an inquiry regarding a personal matter,” Azul starts. Idia narrows his eyes at him.

» “Uh… I have no interest in your shady dealings,” he mumbles. Azul huffs.

» “It has nothing to do with my perfectly sound business practices!” Azul shakes his head. “Actually, it has to do with romance.”

» “Huh?! Romance?! Whaaat… so even a shady antagonist can have a heart,” Idia mumbles before continuing. “Uhhh my knowledge doesn’t extend beyond video games. Why bother asking me?”

» “Because I know you’ll be impartial. Anyway, I have a… friend that I’m rather fond of,” Azul starts, but Idia quickly cuts him off.

» “Not to ruin your moment, but I know who you’re talking about. You’ve got low-tier stealth stats. It’s obvious you like them,” Idia mentions with a sigh. “I mean, they’re oblivious to it, but still. I’m guessing you want some s-rank confession to woo them?”

» Azul pauses, shutting his mouth and huffing. “Yes, I want to… ‘woo’ them. I have no idea how, though. I’ve drafted countless ideas, but all of them seem plain. During lunch hardly seems romantic, and the beach seems cliche. I’m at a loss,” Azul admits. Idia stares at him for a few moments.

» “Please tell me this is some weird joke. Are you being real right now?” Idia deadpans.

» “What? I’m hardly joking! I’m truly at a loss. Why else would I request assistance?” Azul mutters. Idia groans.

» “This is like grinding hours for a total OP secret weapon, then not even using it in the final battle,” Idia mumbles. “You have your glitzy lounge, right? Close it for a day and confess there. Seriously, I’m a newbie in romance and I could even think of that.”

» Azul goes silent as he thinks about it. He’d always viewed the Monstro Lounge as nothing more than a business prospect. Though, the atmosphere was certainly ideal. He made sure of it himself. You did quite enjoy studying there, too.

» Azul let out a long sigh. It was so obvious that he almost wanted to slap himself for not seeing it sooner.

» “That is a great idea, Idia. Thank you. I’ll close it down early Friday night, then. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have many preparations to make. And a lifetime of embarrassment to work through for not realizing such a simple solution,” Azul insists, quickly leaving the club room.

» With that, his plan is in motion. Jade and Floyd, while not willing to help him previously, are now willing to help put his plan into motion. They ensure that the Lounge is fully closed that night and pass on the invitation to you. Floyd cooks a specialized menu Azul put together, and Jade helps decorate for the occasion.

» After everything is ready, Azul awaits your arrival nervously. Floyd and Jade keep him company, though mostly tease him for being so clearly anxious.

» “Azul. At this rate, I’m afraid you’ll break the seat with how tightly you’re gripping it,” Jade mentions. Azul straightens, pulling his hands away from the chair he’d been leaning on.

» “Eh? To be fair his nervousness could be faaaaar worse. Imagine if we told him what we saw earlier~” Floyd teases. Azul tenses.

» “Oya, Floyd. We said we wouldn’t mention that to him. Now look at him. He’s even more fearful than before.” Jade smiles simply. Floyd laughs a bit.

» “Ah, well. Too late~ You know, they got confessed to earlier. It was another random bottom feeder, but~ figured it’d be better that you knew,” Floyd sings, smirking. Jade chuckles.

» “It shouldn’t be an issue. I’m certain,” Jade says. Before Azul can pry for details, footsteps echo through the lounge. “Oh? Seems our guest of honor is here. Good luck, Azul.”

» With that, Jade leaves, Floyd following him out. Azul lets out a shaky sigh and turns to face you, putting on his usual expression as you walk over, eyes wide as you take in the decor. Dainty lights were strung overhead and gentle flowers decorated the tables.

» “Wow, this is pretty. I knew you were closing early today, but I had no idea it was for this. What’s the occasion?” you ask with a bright grin. Azul smiles, pulling out your chair for you.

» “There’s no occasion. It’s simply a gift to you,” Azul states, seating himself after you. You give him a teasing smirk.

» “What’s this? Azul Ashengrotto giving me a gift with no strings attached? Color me surprised~” you hum. Azul blushes and rolls his eyes playfully.

» “You're speaking as if this is a one-time occasion. I’ve gifted you plenty in the past, you know. Or have you forgotten my generosity already?” Azul asks, faking a pout. You laugh gently.

» “Of course I haven’t forgotten. I could never forget the generosity and kindness that rivals that of the Sea Witch. I dunno… I guess it almost makes me feel special!” you mention. Azul pauses for a moment before looking at you.

» “It’s because you are special,” he blurts out suddenly. Your eyes widen and you go speechless. For a moment, the silence weighs heavy between you both before he clears his throat.

» “Forgive me… I know you’ve already leant your ear to another for a confession today, but could you listen to one more?” Azul asks softly, vulnerability lacing his tone. You wordlessly nod, keeping your eyes on him. Azul shifts a bit under your gaze but persists.

» “I’ve felt this strong affinity for you for quite some time now. At first, I thought it was just a mutually beneficial friendship, but then… I realized it was more than that. I tried to distance myself out of fear, but you managed to stop me before I could get far. You’ve always been good at recognizing when something’s troubling me.” Azul gives you a fond smile before continuing.

» “You reminded me that relationships don’t need to be transactional. That I’m enough. I greatly enjoy your company. I know you don’t want my money or my power, but it feels wrong to confess empty-handed. So, instead, in this verbal contract, I’d like to offer you two things.

» “First, a promise. I promise to do all in my power to make you happy, and to be a suitable partner. But more importantly, I’d like to offer you my heart. I cherish you more than any other. All I ask for in return… is an answer. Will you accept my confession, and the terms of my verbal contract?” Azul looks at you with bated breath. The air is tense and you don’t say a word, but soon, a few tears slip down your cheeks. Azul’s eyes widen and he rushes to your side.

» Before he can inquire about your well-being, you wrap your arms tightly around him, nuzzling your face in his neck.

» “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for that? Great Seven, I’ve rejected so many people just hoping that you might eventually say something. Yes. Of course I’ll accept. I’d love to be with you, Azul,” you express happily. Azul lets out a relieved sigh, embracing you and reveling in the feeling.

» “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. You have my sincerest apologies,” Azul mumbles. You shake your head, pulling back to smile at him.

» “You’ll always be worth the wait, Azul.”

✎ at last , with you !

» Unsurprisingly, given that they were eavesdropping the entire time, the Leech twins are the first to learn about you and Azul’s relationship. Now that you two are together, they reveal that they’ve known the feeling was mutual the entire time.

» Azul gapes at them, angrily asking why they hadn’t said anything sooner. Naturally, they respond that it’s far more interesting to let these things play out without interference. As irritated as he is at the notion, Azul feels grateful. He feels much more sound in his decision since he had time to truly think it over.

» However, that brings up more curious questions to him. How long have you liked him? Who else knew of your feelings? Was he the only one kept in the dark?

» With a laugh, you express that you’ve liked him for quite some time now. This shocks Azul beyond words, but it also makes him feel elated and secure in his relationship with you. He can’t help but feel just a tad cocky. All of these people were confessing to you, yet you still chose him? It’s quite the phenomenon!

» Of course, as usual, you insist that he’s the phenomenal one. You waited for him because you loved him, and that’s a fact he should never doubt. Azul knows it’ll be a struggle to get past his insecurities fully, but when he’s with you, it feels like that goal is far more manageable.

» As your relationship develops, you two eventually find a nice balance. Azul is still running a business in tandem with his studies, so he gets incredibly busy, but you have your own obligations, too. You’d think that you’d have no time to spend together, but Azul goes out of his way to make time for you.

» Whether you’re silently reading in his office while he works, or he’s going over paperwork in your room while you’re studying, you two always find ways to spend time together. Even if it’s just being together in silence while you’re both working, Azul feels at home. Being in your presence is enough to soothe him.

» However, every so often, your schedules align and you’re able to go on a proper date together. Azul plans these as far in advance as he possibly can. The moment he notices that your free time lines up, he’s planning a proper date with you.

» Azul is (secretly) a hopeless romantic, so he adores having romantic dates with you. When caught up in a cold world filled with emotionless business decisions, it feels nice for him to be able to step away into the warmth of your company. So, his dates reflect that accordingly. Whether it be a private dinner or a stroll beneath the stars, he makes sure every date is one to remember.

» You allow Azul to be himself when he’s with you. He isn’t trying to run a business, make deals, or keep his grades up. There is no facade for him to upkeep when with you. He’s the same, sensitive octomer that he's always been ever since he was young.

» At first, Azul is still weary of being vulnerable around you. After all, you’re his beloved partner! He can’t stand to show a shameless side of himself to you. He wants you to think highly of him. He wants to show you his best. He can’t imagine what you might think of him if he were to show you that younger, weaker side of himself, let alone his merform!

» This all changes after his overblot, though. You easily notice the build-up of stress and the increase in contracts, given that you’re always by Azul’s side. In the beginning, you turn a blind eye to it all, but once your friends get involved, it’s hard for you to play clueless much longer.

» You assist in the plan to take him down, fully expecting Azul to hate you for it. Azul expects much of the same. He took things too far, and he hurt you. When you tried to get him to stop on your own, he didn’t listen. Instead, he pushed himself beyond what he was capable of and showcased the ugliest parts of himself to you.

» When he wakes up, you expect him to be angry. Instead, you’re met with a look of sorrowful shame. Azul can’t meet your gaze, face flushed red and eyes glossy with tears.

» “I-I’m sorry… I’ve shown you something so unsightly and I nearly hurt you,” he mumbles. He mentally braces himself for the breakup— for you to turn away and leave him behind. The worst part about it? He’s powerless to stop you. He’s lost all of his contracts, but he doesn’t care about that anymore if it means losing you, too.

» However, he’s surprised to find that you don’t leave. You let out a relieved sigh, smiling at him warmly.

» “Azul. I’m hurt that you went that far, but I’m more hurt that you didn’t tell me you were struggling so much. I love you. All parts of you. You didn’t show me anything strange. In fact, I’m glad I saw everything,” you explain gently, leaning your head against his.

» Azul regards you with a fragile expression, eyes wide. “You… aren’t leaving? Why? Why stay?” Azul questions. You hum gently, running your fingers through his hair.

» “Because one mistake doesn’t define who you are as a person. You’re still my Azul, even with your past, present, and future mistakes. I love you as is, good and bad. I’m just glad you’re okay,” you mumble. Finally, in such an intimate moment, Azul fully lets his guard down and allows tears to slip.

» “I thought I lost you, too. I don’t care for those petty contracts if it means you’ll no longer love me,” Azul’s voice cracks as he speaks. You gently wipe his tears away, smiling as you pepper his face with gentle kisses.

» “You could never lose me, Azul. My heart is yours. Nothing will change that. Now, come on. You still need to heal, so rest. I’ll be here when you awaken again.”

» Throughout his recovery, you remain dutifully by Azul’s side. He feels incredibly grateful to you for it. You saw the things he tried so hard to erase and accepted him in his entirety. His true form, his pain, his past— none of it phased you. If anything, it gave you a better understanding of him.

» Azul gradually returns to his usual, slightly arrogant self, but you can see the change clear as day. He still uses his usual dealings and business practices, but he no longer uses it as a means of coping with his perceived weakness. Instead, when he does feel that lingering doubt, he turns to you for support.

» And when he’s resting in your arms after a hard day of managing the lounge, he knows that he has no need to hoard power for the sake of protecting himself.

» After all, his heart is in the most capable hands possible.

» He’s yours. And that’s all he’ll ever need.

— fin.

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

One in Eleven Million (ch. 3)

damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent

(A/N): Can you tell my ADHD brain has no sense of time? I was fully like 'oh yeah it's been a week' and it's actually been 3, I am so sorry. Thank you to everyone following this series; it is complete so I swear you will get the full story! (Also shoutout to @glorified-red for body doubling w/ me and being overall amazing; I appreciate you.)

Previous chapters linked here and here.

wc: ~1050

warnings: mentions of non-graphic injury

~~

Damian’s bicep throbbed and he switched his rolling carry-on to his other hand. He’d disinfected, stitched, and wrapped the bullet graze, but that was hours ago now and he hadn’t kept any painkillers in his backpack. Even if they weren’t in his carry-on, he wouldn’t have pulled them out on the plane. As much as he’d learned about the stranger he and Jon were sitting with, he didn’t trust you enough for that. 

Jon’s carry-on bag was loud, wheels clattering against the floor and echoing in the mostly empty airport. It was a small bag and a cheap one, bought mostly for appearances and convenience. Damian’s, on the other hand, was from a safe house 90 minutes away from the airport. It was the only reason he hadn’t been stopped at security with Batman WE technology in the hidden compartment. Jon’s suit—sans the belt in Damian’s suitcase—got through security with no problems. 

He may not trust them farther than Jon could presently throw them, but Damian could at least admit that the stranger on the plane was an unexpected boon. With Jon already on edge from the solar flare and subsequent stranding and Damian himself running on not enough sleep and an even smaller social battery, having a gruff, immoveable asshole in between them would have made the flight more torturous than it was destined to be. With these delays, even more so. A childish part of Damian wanted to call Richard back and say that they did need a pick-up, actually. Some combination of pride and exhaustion stopped him. A few steps ahead, Jon’s laugh rang out, joined quickly by a laugh made familiar by only the last few hours. 

Fine so it was pride, exhaustion, and seeing Jon happy. Sue him. 

While Jon followed your—yes he knew your name, he just didn’t know you enough to use it yet—guidance through the airport, Damian watched the signs. The literal ones and the body language ones. Nothing on the plane ride had given him reason to think the stranger meant any harm, but Damian was raised with extreme paranoia on all sides of his family. Jon was his family too, though, and with his super senses compromised, Damian’s instinct would have to do. 

“Okay so since this is a shuttle, I think it’s this door.” Damian looked up at the sign you were pointing to. Zone 8, it read, Airport Shuttles. Jon shrugged.

“Looks right.”

He took the lead this time and you followed. Damian stayed behind, eyes catching on your backpack. You don’t have clothes with you, he remembered. By the looks of it, you didn’t have much with you at all. 

There was a shuttle leaving by the time the three of you reached the platform. 

“Excuse me,” you asked a woman standing nearby. Damian vaguely recognized her from the boarding line. “Are you here for the hotel shuttles?” The woman turned around, launching into a tirade.

Damian took the distraction for a chance to talk to Jon. 

“No change right?” Jon shook his head, hands rubbing up and down his arms. 

“None. I didn’t really expect any this early. Maybe tomorrow if I’m lucky? Or the day after.” 

Damian swung his backpack off of his shoulder to pull his jacket off. 

“You’re not regulating temperature properly—” 

Jon’s hand on his arm stopped him. 

“Your arm.” Damian cursed under his breath and pulled the jacket back on. 

“How long’s it been since you changed that?” Jon asked. 

“I’ll change it at the hotel, it’s fine.” 

“It’s not.” 

In the corner of his eye, Damian watched you extricate yourself from the tirade. 

“You’re not one to talk, currently,” he said. “It’s barely chilly out and you’re shivering.” Jon’s response was curtailed by your return. 

“Oh but the Metropolis folks aren’t built for this kind of weather, don’t you know? It’s clear skies with a chance of red cape sightings over there.” Your own jacket was still on, though unzipped. 

A snort of laughter escaped Damian before he could hold it back. Damian blamed it on the fatigue. He blamed the spark of gratification he got when you delighted in his reaction on that too. Jon rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah yeah, very funny.”

Your eyes locked onto something behind Jon and Damian tracked your gaze to the shuttle. Jon took a step back as it parked right beside him. 

“Bluiett, Archanza, Helioz!” Yelled the driver. 

Jon extended his arm, ushering you inside. 

“After you.” 

“Thanks.” 

Damian clambered on after Jon. He’d taken a seat across from you. Damian sat next to him. 

The shuttle ride was, for the most part, quiet until the first stop. 

“I don’t have any pajamas,” you lamented, head dropping back against the window behind you. “Or toiletries.” 

Damian wasn’t sure if you were expecting an answer, even if he did know what to say. Jon’s eyebrows wrinkled. Damian thought his thinking face was adorable. Jon thought it was embarrassing.

“You can borrow something of mine if you want?” Jon offered. Damian held back a smile. Jon had very little clothes-wise in his carry on—just sweatpants, an extra set of jeans, a t-shirt or two, and underwear. And a Superman suit. But still, he offered. You smiled awkwardly, eyes dipping down to where your own backpack rested on your lap. 

“Um, no I’m good. But thanks.” 

Damian’s eyes tracked your face. For the first time all evening, he found what he was looking for. You didn’t quite trust them either, not yet. You were wary of them. Not afraid, not like you were when you got on the plane, but wary. Jon and he were strangers and you knew it. 

“Even hotels as bad as these should provide some sort of soap,” Damian offered. 

For the first time all night, your hopeful smile was directed at him. 

“Yeah, I forgot about that, thanks.” The relief in your voice told him you were being genuine. Damian nodded in return, giving into the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“I think I’m taking sleep over a shower anyway,” Jon added. 

“Easy for you to say when there’s options,” you teased back at him. Damian might not have laughed the way Jon did, but he cracked a smile nonetheless.When the three of you parted in the hotel elevator—you on your own on the second floor and he and Jon together on the third—Damian might not have known everything there was to know about you, but his instincts whispered trust. Good enough for him.

[melanieph321]

SEVEN DAYS OF REQUESTS (DAY 2)

Fermin Lopez x Reader - You or Me Part 2/4

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Request - my request is something like you are best friends with fermin (or gavi) and he’s madly in love with you but you don’t know about it so when you start seeing someone (possibly another footballer) he gets jealous and does something outrageous like posts a story with a photo of yours which is odd considering he’s never done it before and the person you’re seeing gets mad and you also get mad because it’s obvious he’s doing it for another reason and have an argument with him when he confesses his true feelings in a moment of weakness which causes you to take a step back but you soon realize you’re actually more into him than you knew and go to him late at night and make out

Enjoy!

The bus arrived at the hotel around lunch time. After a light lunch the first training session was already in motion, with none of the players given a chance to unpack. You enjoyed it though, the session wasn't too harsh but you still learned a lot. After training you and Camilla had a chance to relax in your hotel room before dinner. Another training session awaited after that.

"Fuck it, I'm going out tonight:" Camilla said, examining herself in the bathroom mirror.

"Like out to town?" You asked, gazing up at the sealing as you lay on your back in bed. You were still wearing your training kit and so was Camilla, since there was no point in changing.

"Yes. A lot of players are doing it."

"But we have another session this evening." You frowned. 

"Yes, but everyone's going afterwards."

You set up in bed. "But won't it be too late by then? Don't people need to sleep and recover ahead of tomorrow?"

Camilla poked her head out of the bathroom. "Oh Y/N, you're so sweet. You've always been so dedicated."

"And you've not?"

She shrugged. "Not like you. No wonder Manchetser United wants you and not me. All I'm saying is that Boot Camp is supposed to be fun, so….I'm having a little fun."

You chuckled. "Let's see how fun you'll have tomorrow playing hungover."

************************************************

Fermin felt like he had been on the road forever, all because Gavi wanted to show off his new car to his old academy friends.

"Man, are we there yet?" Fermin groaned.

Gavi smirked behind the wheel. "Soon mi hermano. Very soon."

"Well soon isn't soon enough."

"Don't worry. They're probably still training and you know how Y/N gets, she won't give you a second glance if you try flirting with her when she's playing football. Haven't you learned anything from that time she shot that ball in your face."

Fermin chuckled at the memory. Gavi however, shook his head in disbelief. "I don't even know why you still have a thing for her. She's obviously crazy. Besides, we play for Barca now, the best team in the world. You can have any girl you want."

Yeah but Fermin didn't want any girl in the world, he wanted Y/N. The love of his life since their first days in the academy.

Gavi's car pulled up to the Boot Camp hotel late in the afternoon. The two of them were expected to hold a seminar after the team dinner that night, but instead of heading up to his hotel room and freshening up like Gavi, Fermin headed straight to the football field in search of one person and one person only.

"Where is Y/N." He asked a girl. One of the players from the academy.

"Well hello to you too." The girl said. She looked terrible, like the days training session had involved physical torture.

"Hi, hello." He stammered. "You're Y/N's friend right, Rita? Have you seen her around?"

The tired girl rolled her eyes. "My name is Camilla not Rita. Who the fuck is Rita?"

"Oh, sorry."

"It's not like you don't know who I am..." The girl continued. She seemed very upset.

"I'm sorry Camilla, I really am. I was just in a hurry to see Y/N. I have something to tell her."

The girl's eyes searched his face, eventually giving in. "Well, you'll find her where I left her."

"And where is that?"

She smiled. "On the football field of course."

"Great, thanks."

Fermin was heading straight there. But Camilla's words stopped him in his tracks.

"Just a heads up." She said,

"What?"

"If you're going to ask Y/N to be your girlfriend don't bother, she's unavailable anyway."

"Unavailable?" He frowned. "H...how do you know?" And how did she know that he was going to ask Y/N to be his girlfriend.

Camilla shrugged. "She told me that she's been going out with this guy she met in the summer."

"What guy?" Fermin felt his heartbeat raise.

"It's funny, you might even have heard of him. Alejandro Garnacho?"

"WHAT? That idiot?" Fermin was trembling from top to bottom. How could any of this be true? He had kept in contact with Y/N ever since he left the academy. Sure she didn't always reply to his DM's, but never had she told him off when he was clearly flirting with her. Telling him off is what she should have done if she has a boyfriend, no?

"Yeah. Apparently Y/N spent the summer at his house in England, doing God knows what."

"But...but..." There were no words to make sense of the situation. Fermin was beginning to feel sick to his stomach.

"Sorry." Camilla shrugged. "But you know how Y/N is. A part of her thinks that she's too good for Barca. I've heard that there's even been talks of her transferring to Manchester United. I guess she wants to be closer to Garnacho."

That's it. Fermin thought. He was going home. He was getting Gavi and they were going home.

"Sorry." Camilla repeated, with a smirk on her lips. "I guess you came all this way for nothing. That is..." She raised her brow. "If you're not looking to party with myself and some if the other academy girls?"

Fermin's eyes narrowed. "A part, when?"

"After the seminar, bring Gavi."

"Fine." He nodded, searching his pocket for his phone "Text me the details." He handed Camilla the phone. She typed in her number, adding a heart emoji after her name.

"See you later Lopez." She winked, handing him back his phone before making her way back to the hotel.

Fermin looked back towards the football fields. There he could spot Y/N, practicing her penalty shots.

"Idiot." He snorted. "I'm such a fucking idiot."

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

[vqlisms]

if no-one else is gonna dissect n’s room i guess i have to do it myself

this is based purely on the games btw :3

n is about the same age as the rest of the bw protags, perhaps a bit older. estimations and canon information say they’re around 18-20 in bw and 20-22 in the sequels.

n’s room is on the fourth floor of plasma castle. it has purple and white checkerboard walls, and blue and white cloud pattern flooring. the ost plays a melancholic music-box theme, a sharp contrast to the pressure of the orchestral (or as close as the bw soundfont can get) symphony in the castle halls.

the toys in the room are not interactable, but do have text prompts.

an incomplete train set loops around the entrance. “It’s a set of trains and tracks. Has it been played with recently?”

a toy box rests beside the looping train. “This toy box contains pieces of a train set.”

a downsized basketball court takes up half the open floor. the hoop, with a toy train blocking the net, reads: “It’s a home-style basketball hoop…” the basketball on the floor beside it reads: “It’s a basketball that looks like it’s been used a lot. It says Harmonia on it…”

underneath a rotating plane suspended from the ceiling, “A skateboard is resting on a pile of wheels.”

to the right, blocking the back wall and more toy boxes, is a half pipe. “A halfpipe for skateboards… It has Pokémon scratch marks on it here and there…”

the only reachable toy box behind the halfpipe reads, “This toy box is full of new toys…”

on the back wall are three decorations. the leftmost one is a dartboard with several darts stuck to and around it. a frame beside it, hanging crookedly from the wall, reads, “This panel has a dart stuck in it.” the rightmost picture is made up of two shades of purple. “An art panel with a printed geometric pattern.”

n’s room is barely larger than the others we’re able to visit in the castle. the room is childish and colourful, not a bad thing, but definitely not fitting to the king of team plasma or the person who has been so confident in their ideals.

n was adopted by ghetsis when they were small, likely not even 10. they had no knowledge of what was normal or necessary for human children’s development. the world had no knowledge of them either, since ghetsis isolated them from society with only abused pokemon and their sisters or other team plasma members. this castle was underground for years, they were physically and emotionally dependent on people who shared ghestis’s ideals.

children are easy to manipulate. children are easy to mould. children are easy to control. no-one has changed n’s room with their growth because they weren’t supposed to; if n grew and learned and thought, they wouldn’t be the perfect king that team plasma needed. but this room, whimsical and lonely, isn’t a king’s room. n is a figurehead and a symbol. they have no control or duties, their responsibilities end at looking regal. only the people allowed into their room—ghetsis, their sisters, and select other plasma members—see that they are nothing past the garb and speeches that they preach.

aaaaaalso symbolism time!!! once again the castle is underground for the majority of the time it exists but also, please note the layout of the rooms that exist within it. none of the rooms have windows, but most of them do have chimneys. in a normal house, windows, useful or locked, at least allow a person to acknowledge the existence of an outside. since windows are useless in an underground castle, there are none. but that’s not quite true, is it? after all, the point of the construction of plasma’s castle was for it to rise from the dirt and surround the league. most of the rooms have chimneys, which would be nothing but a hazard underground when the smog would have nowhere to vent to. but they have constructed chimneys, because this castle isn’t meant to stay underground forever. n’s room does not have a chimney, or windows. there is nothing connecting their room directly to the outside of the castle.

also, the pattern of the flooring specifically is clouds. the pattern is rote, symmetrical. there are no variations, no deviations. also, this pattern is on the floor. of course, we can’t see the ceiling because of the camera limitations/perspective and the style of the game, but i think putting the sky on the ground is still interesting. because n knows what outside looks like, they grew up in the wilderness for years, enough to learn to understand pokemon. but now, in this castle, they can’t leave. the sky is upside-down and carefully graphed, and part of that is like with the toys to keep n from getting restless, but it also shows how warped their environment has made their view of the outside world. they’ve been told everything they know about society and how it functions, presented like the truth, and have only been given evidence that certified what they’ve been told.

also, a fun bit of colour symbolism. reshiram follows the hero of truth, while zekrom follows the hero of ideals. now here’s the fun part: their colours are swapped. reshiram and truth are black, while zekrom and ideals are white, corresponding with the twin dragon that the protag is able to catch in the story. outside of the dartboard on the back and some lineart, there is no black in n’s room. i don’t care if it was intentional or not, n’s room is a figment of their and the people around them’s ideals, all presented as the truth. but no matter how they present it, no matter what they wrap it in or how they light it, there’s no truth to anything they’ve been given.

also real quick the presented/fake freedom to n’s room parallels the difference between what team plasma is presenting their goals to be and ghetsis’s actual goal of holding power over people

IM BACK also note how the newest toys are shoved in the very very back of the room, almost hidden behind their old ones. they’ve played with the same toys over and over and over because they’ve had nothing else to do. they don’t have crayons or paper or crafts, their entire room is made up of solid unchanging toys. they can rearrange them and look and play from different angles, but there’s fundamentally nothing new they can do with anything. this parallels how the only ideas and ideals n could ever conceptualise were ones literally handed to them growing up. they didn’t have any information or experience to create their own because they didn’t know anything else existed. any new ideas they shoved away and repressed, regardless of how close they were to their own, or who was presenting them to them. nothing new has ever existed for them, not for a very very long time.

OH MY FUCKING GOD I COMPLETELY FORGOT THE MOST IMPORTANT THING there is literally zero (0) furniture in n’s room. no bed, no dressers, absolutely nothing. there are two things i want to point out about this, one to do with n’s position in team plasma and another to do with a bit more symbolism i guess? n’s room isn’t meant to be comfortable, it’s a gilded cage, it’s simply meant to hold them, so that they don’t get restless, so that they don’t leave, so that they play along. they are a puppet leader, plasma grunts obey them because of their figure, but almost all of the major decisions of the team are either from ghetsis or from his manipulation. and ghetsis treats them like a puppet, too. after all, dolls may look human, but they don’t need anything. and n was in a perfect position for not needing anything, since they had no standards of what a human should receive in a healthy household, emotionally or physically.

anyways if i forgot anything whoopie daisy, i’ll add it later or scream about it or something (current edit count: 3). for now let’s just say pokemon won’t be called pokemon anymore after i’m done with ghetsis

[tiny-maus-boots]

Down South pt 3

Stacie:

Stacie peeked around the back corner of their house and took note of where the remaining shooters were located. There weren’t that many but a few had taken cover behind still living tumbleweeds that ringed their courtyard. Without a good line of sight Aubrey would be hard pressed to pick them off. In the end each side would resort to potshots at the other until someone ran out of ammo or they lit the house and barn. 

Well that sure as hell wasn’t going to happen on her watch. They had spent good long hours together, sweating and bleeding to build a home from nothing but dirt and clay. It was the proudest work she’d ever done and the most peace she had ever felt and she wasn’t willing to let anyone ruin it for her. For any of them. Stacie gave a soft bird whistle and smiled when a volley of shots rang out from the second floor. Just enough fire to give her cover as she scooted the exposed span from the house to the barn. 

She ducked inside and closed the door behind her. Shouts from the bushes let her know they’d seen her and they were planning to flush her out. Stacie chuckled and rolled her eyes at the predictability. 

“Men. Always in a rush to get ‘er done.” 

The tall brunette ducked down behind a squat platform on wheels and pushed it forward to center it to the door. She stepped up behind it and yanked away the heavy canvas tarp covering her newest baby. Stacie’s fingers traced over the calligraphy lovingly etched on the side of one of the six barrels of her gatling gun. 

Southern Hospitality. 

 Each piece was crafted by her own two hands with the help of the local blacksmith. It had taken her weeks just to figure out how to get the lock cylinder to work and truthfully she’d hadn’t had the chance to try her out. There was a very real possibility that it would blow up in her face from misfires when she turned the crank. And it was still the sexiest damn hardware she’d ever laid eyes on, making her hands itch with anticipation.

“Hello gorgeous.”

Rough voices barked out orders in short staccato bursts. It didn’t worry her none. Stacie whistled a tuneless melody as she lifted the hopper full of rounds and clicked it into place. The activity on the other side of the door became frenzied when the men had finally made their way past the barrage of bullets from the house. 

“We know you’re in there, woman. Come without a fight and make this easy. Don’t make us have to hurt you.” 

If she had a peso for every time she’d heard that. Stacie snagged a long stalk of hay from the abandoned pile and stuck it between her smiling lips. Well, they’d learn just like the others, she never went down without a fight. 

“Well boys, if ya want me you’re gonna hafta just come and get me.” 

The doors to the barn rattled ominously, a threat of what would come if they had to come in and get her. They would come in with guns drawn and ready, that was for sure. They might underestimate who exactly they were dealing with but not enough to be that careless and stupid. Stacie didn’t intend to give them a chance to shoot. The moment she saw the doors buckle and start to bow out she started to crank her girl up. 

Her lips tugged back wider as her grin turned to a grimace from the loud crack of rapid fire shots blasting through the doors of the barn. Acrid smoke from the gunpowder stung her nostrils, the heat of combustion left her face feeling warm and raw like she’d been too close to a blacksmith’s forge. 

Stacie kept cranking until the hopper was empty and the only sounds left were the echoing clacks of spinning barrels rotating through the locking gear. What was left of the lower half of one of the doors creaked in the breeze and promptly fell to the dirt. From where she stood she counted four sets of legs on the ground and none of them were moving. 

Careful steps brought her around Southern Hospitality toward the doors. The woman cautiously pushed the door open and peeked out at the damage. They’d need to replace the doors before the cattle arrived, maybe a plank or two out of the front wall but the building stood strong. Stacie gave a testing kick to the foot of one of the men and nodded with satisfaction. Movement by the porch caught her eye and she drew her pistol without thought and fired.

He dropped to the ground with a groan and a curse. Gut shot. No bullet wound was a good one but a gut shot was the worst. The man raises his gun and fired back wildly, making her have to duck back into the barn for cover. Now she was pinned until he either bled out or one of the girls came downstairs to deal with him. She was guessing the latter would be happening very quickly.

It wasn’t long before she heard the soft fluttering chirp of their all clear call. Whatever end that man had met it ended silently and likely by one of Beca’s blades. Stacie pushed the door open wider and scanned the area. Nothing moved save for Beca wiping a knife on the shirt of the man on the porch. They shared a solemn nod as she closed the distance to the house. 

“We get all of them?”

“Aubrey says yes.”

“Good enough. Who the hell are they?”

Beca knelt by the man and searched his vest pockets. She sighed and ripped off the badge pinned to his shirt to hold it up. Pinkerton National Detective Agency. Well shit. Stacie holstered her gun and kicked at the man’s leg just out of spite. They looked at each other over the Pinkerton’s body, each refusing to say the smartest course of action. 

They could run. They should run. 

But she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Stacie couldn’t even bring herself to voice the idea that felt like admitting so much defeat. They broke eye contact when the front door swung open and Chloe and Aubrey shuffled out. Beca silently held out the badge to Chloe and stood back. The redhead shuddered and dropped the badge on the ground as if it burned. 

Aubrey wrapped an arm around Chloe’s shoulders and nodded to the men laying scattered around their property with her chin. Her nose wrinkled daintily as she considered all their options. Stacie hoped the blonde wasn’t about to suggest a Christian burial for any of them. She was far past being done with breaking her back for a man. Any man.

“They’ll come looking when this lot doesn’t come back to the pueblo. If they come here they will burn it to the ground if we’re inside or not.”

Chloe shook off the memory that had prompted her statement and hooked her thumbs in her suspenders. If they ran now it wouldn’t matter, everything would still be destroyed. They’d lose everything but their lives and even that wasn’t guaranteed. Stacie tossed her long locks over her shoulder and looked up at the position of the sun. It would be dark soon enough and that would provide them a measure of cover. 

“I don’t know about y’all but I’m all out of run. This is our home now, we built this, and I’ll be damned if I like some shiny metal scare me off our land.”

Aubrey gave her a long measuring look before nodding her agreement. Her soft voice carried the weight of all their thoughts. 

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven. A time to be born…”

“And a time to die.” 

They finished the verse solemnly. Stacie imagined those Pinkertons would agree. Right up until they realized they would be the ones doing the dying. Aubrey mumbled a soft prayer for them all and placed her hat on her head with firm conviction. 

And so their time for peace was at an end, as they were certain to ride into a time of war. Stacie watched the light that had grown in Aubrey’s eyes dim with cold resignation. For now. For now they’d give up their peace. But Stacie would spend every minute until her last bringing that light back if she had to blow up every single Pinkerton that crossed the border.

[tres-fidelis]

Fear

Mask

Midnight

I forgot which one I'm interacting with so why not all three? ; 3

oc asks: not-so-nice edition

fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

((She's very afraid of speaking out. The times she's ever tried standing her own ground by voicing her opinions, she's been shot down by her parents intervening and speaking for her. If she disagrees with a choice made by her parents, they reassure her its the best choice for KC's interests. If she pursues the topic or decision further, she's told to keep quiet and not make a scene. She's had very little moments where she could freely speak about what's on her mind, how she feels about a situation or problem, or even saying what kinds of food she prefers eating.

This is what initially turned her away from speaking at all, and why she has selective mutism now in her teenage years. At this point, KC wonders if she even has a physical voice anymore. She's too nervous and scared to find out on her own.))

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

((Jayden has to, everyday. She has one to wear around her co-workers, she has to put one on when she's working with other news companies, and of course she needs to wear one when she's reporting live in front of the cameras. There's too many she needs to juggle all in a single day, but she's learned well how to keep the act going. It's been like that for years now. She's built a craft out of it. It's been practiced enough where switching between her masks doesn't make her feel much of anything.

But it's tiring, and she knows it too well. Appearances and pleasantries, however, are necessary in her career field. When you're a well-known face to thousands of people, all of them looking at you and waiting to hear what you have to say, you need to please them. They don't want to hear the truth. They want to know what's best for them. Yet despite knowing this, Jayden always tries her best to speak the real truth. No lies, no cover-ups, but she knows she has to say whatever nonsense will rake in the ratings.

It's a mess, and Jayden knows it too well. But she continues to strive towards bettering her workplace, and keeping the viewers informed about local news stories. None one really knows the true, broken, damaged Jayden other than her mother, though. Jayden's mom is the only person who knows the real Jayden.))

midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

((Most nightmares Rin has involves her parents and the night of the car crash. They're reoccurring at this point, she almost expects to have those dreams again whenever she sleeps. Then again, Rin doesn't get sleep too much to begin with. Most nights she's out driving around the Inaba mountainside, winding down curved roadways and racing against any out-of-town racing groups.

That's her usual nights, and they last sometimes until early morning. She doesn't care too much about getting enough sleep if it means more time driving in her racing car. The asphalt is a comfort for her, in an ironic and twisted sense. When she's flying down the road, the adrenaline gets rid of all those anxieties or fears that plague her during the day. Behind the wheel, she doesn't need to think about any of that. It's just her, her car, the street, and nothing else.))

[cyantomatos]

Wheel of Writing - Day 3

Prompt: “Don’t pretend like you’re not happy to see me like this.” Pairing: Pero Tovar x f!reader Notes: This one got away from me a little while writing

You weren’t sure what you’d done, but it was becoming painfully clear that Pero Tovar did not like you.

The two mercenaries had wandered into your small town almost a year ago, and although locals were skeptical at first they soon warmed to the two strangers. William more so than his broody friend, but even Tovar had demonstrated he would be of use to the town. When asked why they chose to settle, they just said they’d had enough adventure and travel for one lifetime.

William was clearly the more friendly of the two, and almost immediately had women eyeing him. He was strong and handsome, and when you’d lived in the same small town with the same choice of men your entire life, anyone new was interesting enough. 

Tovar, on the other hand, kept to himself. He got a position helping at the blacksmith, and while he was just as attractive as his blond friend, his seemingly perpetual frown and quiet personality meant he didn’t blend as well as William did. It didn’t stop some of the younger and more adventurous young women from giggling and batting their lashes at him like they thought it would catch his eye, but he seemed determined to ignore them.

You saw him nearly every day, although he never seemed too thrilled about it.

Your father owned the only bakery in town, and while it was still technically him running the small shop, you were the one that kept it going. Your father was more content in his old age to play with the grandchildren your siblings had given him rather than spend early mornings in a hot room shaping bread, and you were willing to pick up the slack. The smell of rising dough had been your companion your whole life, and you knew one day the bakery would be yours. None of your siblings had shown much interest in taking it over.

Tovar stopped in almost every morning on his way to work, silently purchasing a half-loaf of bread to go with whatever else he’d brought for lunch. He was always quiet, always seemed like he’d rather be anywhere but there, and never spoke to you unless he had to.

You would be perfectly fine with that, if it weren’t for the fact that he seemed to have no problem talking to everyone else.

He wasn’t talkative, but he never outright ignored anyone that tried to hold a conversation with him. He might find the first opportunity to escape the interaction, but he would at least stop for a few moments.

Not with you.

After a while you learned to accept it. It didn’t matter that every time you saw him your heart gave a little jump at the hope that maybe this time he would talk to you, and it certainly didn’t matter how disappointed you felt every time he walked away without a word.

You were behind this morning, having overslept after staying up late reading last night. One of your brothers had recently come back from a trip to the city, and brought back a book for you as a gift. You couldn’t put it down, and now you were rushing to get the store ready for opening this morning.

Just as you pulled a fresh batch of bread out of the oven you heard the bell above the door ding. “I’ll be with you in one second!” You didn’t bother to see who it was, focusing on getting the bread set safely on the counter.

Before you could turn towards the front of the store you heard an indignant squawk, turning just in time to see a chicken flap through the open back door, followed almost immediately by your youngest nephew. In the few seconds it took for you to process what you were seeing the bird managed to hop on one of the counters, hoping to get away from the small boy. When it realized he could still reach it there it proceeded to flap around the kitchen, knocking nearly everything over in the process.

In the matter of a few seconds two flower vases, one batch of rising dough, a tall stack of clean dish rags, one large container of flour, and several pots all managed to be knocked over, most ending up on the floor. One vase managed to escape its demise, merely rolling into the corner of the counter, but the other ended up in glittering pieces on the floor accented by the downy feathers covering every surface.

As you sat there, knocked off your feet by the destructive poultry, you heard your nephew finally nab the bird and hastily mutter out an apology before running out the back door. You looked up, eyes wide as you tried to process what just happened, and were greeted by the icing on the cake;

Pero Tovar, standing in the doorway to the kitchen looking about as shocked as you’d ever seen him, dark eyes fixed on you.

You were not going to cry. You were definitely not going to cry, and especially not in front of him.

Despite trying to convince yourself of that you still felt tears pricking at the back of your eyes as you ducked your head, refusing to let him see the emotion on your face. “I’ll get you your bread in just a moment, if you’ll wait for me out front.”

There was a moment of silence as you tried to summon up some dignity in picking yourself off the floor, but before you could manage it a hand wrapped around your elbow. “Cariño, let me-”

You shook his hand off, shooting him a frown as you pulled yourself to your feet without his help. “I said I would help you in a moment.”

He just stared at you, apparently shocked by your sudden change in tone. You’d always been unfalteringly polite before, no matter how rude he was, and he was clearly thrown off by the shift. It only served to annoy you further, finally snapping after putting up with him for almost a year.

You moved away, turning your back to him as you attempted to right the disaster around you. “Don’t pretend like you aren’t happy to see me like this. I don’t know what I ever did to you, but you clearly don’t like me. I’m sure you’re just so happy to see me knocked down a peg by a fucking bird.”

Before the last word is even out of your mouth his hand is gripping your arm again, spinning you to face him. All the surprise from before is gone, replaced by anger as he practically growls at you, “I am not happy to see you upset, cariño. I was worried.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Really? Worried? You can’t stand me, Pero Tovar. Every day you come in here and every day it’s all I can do to get a word out of you. You never speak, at least not to me, and it’s like you can’t get out of here fast enough.” Even with your anger at the situation your voice breaks towards the end, and you have to look down again to hide the emotions written clearly across your face.

Despite trying so long to convince yourself his indifference and occasional hostility didn’t hurt, it did.

There’s silence in the kitchen for a moment, long enough that you think you may have finally convinced him. Before you can manage to work up the courage to pull out of his tight grip, his free hand catches under your chin to tilt your head up towards him.

He’s looking down at you with possibly the softest expression you’ve seen from him so far, something like regret shining in his eyes. “That is how I have made you feel?”

You lose the battle with tears, a couple spilling over as you rolled your eyes. “Was that not the intention?”

Tovar shakes his head, hand sliding from your chin to cup your cheek. “No, cariño, that was not my intention.”

“Then what was?”

It’s his turn to look away, mouth settling in a grim line as he looks down, and you think he might be embarrassed. “I am not…William, is normally the one that has it easy with women. You have seen the way they fawn over him, he is charming and…much handsomer than me. They normally have to be…incentivized, to turn their attentions towards me.” He glances up at you, grimacing slightly.

“When we arrived, it was the same as always, with everyone looking at him. That was fine, that is normally how it goes, and if I am honest I prefer it that way. I do not like the attention on me.” He pauses, shaking his head slightly before continuing. “But you were not looking at him. You were looking at me.”

You feel your eyes go wide as he recounts the first time you saw him. He’d seemed so sullen next to his charismatic friend that you hadn’t been able to help but watch him. “So why did you refuse to talk to me, Pero?”

He grimaces again. “I am not…good with words. Or talking to beautiful women. I did not dare try, that first day, and the longer it went the less confidence I had every time I saw you. I did not mean to be rude to you, cariño, that was not my intention. I have faced down monsters and armies with more confidence than I can muster in your presence.”

You duck slightly, catching his eye from where he has been refusing to look at you for the past few moments. When he looks up at you, you smile slightly. “All you had to do was say hello. I would have been happy with that.”

Hope shines so brightly on his face that it almost blinds you for a moment, and when he smiles you think your heart skips a beat at the way it transforms his face. “Truly?”

You nod. “We can try again, if you’d like? A second chance.”

He nods with more enthusiasm than you thought possible for him to muster, stepping back to put a bit of space between the two of you. You almost immediately miss his warmth in your space as he holds out his hand. “Hello, my name is Pero Tovar.”

You smile, sliding your hand into his, your eyes locked on his. “Hello, Pero Tovar.”

[mittwoch-addams]

u and ur tattle tale anons need to grow up. none of u need to visit l chat when u clealry hate the place. if u people didn't encourage that annoying beth mead stan 90% of the ellie trolling there wouldn't even happen. u and ur anons bait and feed her and it makes the trolling against ellie and daan worse but u do it so u can play victim and get ur sassy, snarky little digs in. u have to admit ur own role in perpetuating the abuse too. take a good hard look in the mirror and reflect on what u could do differently.

So many projections and assumptions on this ask, LMAO. Time for an I Ain’t Reading All That response, but you asked for it.

1. Why would I go on LChat? Not that I care to vlog my every day life, but there’s so much more to my world than wasting my time with barbarians on an anonymous, clamorous environment like LChat. I’m not attached enough to sport or faceless discourse to write full think pieces on the internet–of all places–when I can have civilized conversations with football fans offline, who don’t care for such things either.

2. I’ve always been transparent about my staunch distaste for certain systemic ideologies, long before Mead has revealed her nature btw. Club rivalry aside, I’ve expressed my disappointment and disapproval for her politics and Arsenal stan culture, but beyond that, realize I have her muted because I don’t trust her self-censure abilities. You’ll find I don’t have to make any serious effort toward keeping up with what doesn’t pique my interest, or anybody I don’t even find physically and morally attractive. She blows up anyway because she’s behind the steering wheel and buries herself in controversies. TLDR: Anything I know of her, I know against my will. She’s not interesting enough to even bait and typing this up is the most I’ve cared.

3. “If you people didn’t encourage…the Beth stan wouldn’t…” Be for fucking real sweetheart. Beth stans are relentlessly obsessive of Ellie/Daan and that’s unequivocally on them to stop consuming content they know triggers them, LOL. (And why should that trigger them?) These are full grown adults, as are you apparently. I’m honored though how you’ve shifted this responsibility to me.

4. One quick Twitter search will tell you no fan ever needed my encouragement. 1.5K quote tweets on an Arsenal team photo will tell you people with any working mind are antagonized all on their own accord.

Maybe Mead should change her politics? If it affects you so deeply, maybe you should spend less time on LChat? Maybe LChat should do better to tighten up security. Maybe take your own advice and take a hard look in the mirror than whine about the clicks that led you to your computer screen? Be a bit more proactive, yeah? Ignore what you don’t want to see and go out more? Maybe you and any other stan in shambles should hop off my dick and stop inviting yourselves and your narratives into people’s relationships and spaces that aren’t your own? Maybe you all need to learn to look at couples and contrasting opinions without taking it so personally? Maybe you should just stop being offended?

Utilize the block button more, baby. If I’m known for my strong opinions and everyone knows this is my politics, then why deliberately camp on my silly little blog anyway? Why become so distraught when other people find politics like that oppressive and offensive? Am I supposed to “stan” someone I don’t agree with? Should I refrain from voicing my opinions so you don’t cry about it at night? Why should everyone remain the same but it is only I who should change for someone like you? Who made you god?

Anyway, back to my cooking lmao feel free to screenshot and reread as needed. Whatever gets through the crevices of your skull.

[scarlettriot]

Stood Up

Pairing: Sero/F!Reader

Summary: When you find your dating making out with someone else at a Halloween party, Hanta swoops in and reclaims your evening, rekindling an old flame.

Contains: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Reader, Astronomy/Greek Lore Nerd Sero, Old flame

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Demi Problems, Praise/Smidge of Degradation, Name-calling (slut & whore), Pet names (Love, good girl, pretty girl), Car Sex, F Masturbation, Oral M Receiving (Road Head) I think that's everything

A/N: This took me much longer than I expected. It's also my first time writing Sero. Given the season, I decided to add a touch of Halloween and costumes to this one.

If you'd like to read other's in the Stood Up series, here are the links:

Stood Up - Bakugo - WC 3,502

Stood Up - Kirishima - WC 3,612

Stood Up - Kaminari - WC 2,461

Word Count Starting Below: 3,494

Denki Kaminari's annual Halloween bash was in full swing by the time Hanta had arrived. He'd come straight from patrol, wrapping himself up in his own tape making a half assed mummy costume for himself. Not like anyone would notice with the flashing colored lights, loud music, and abundance of liquor.

However, Hanta didn't even make it up to the double glass front doors of Denki's home. Not before doing a double take at the very familiar pirate that ran by him.

"Y/N?" You stopped allowing him the chance to catch up to you, "Holy shit, it is you, when the hell did you get back?"

Three years you'd been gone, working in America. Time differences and busy schedules made it so the two of you barely kept in touch. It was a shame, Hanta thought, considering how close the two of you used to be.

"I- uh- just a few weeks now. I heard you were helping out with the disaster relief after that storm."

It had to be his eyes playing tricks on him, the funny colors of the dancing lights were what made your cheeks look wet, right? Those couldn't have been tears.

"I was, yeah, but I got back yesterday. I didn't know-"

"Get the hell outta here!" His head snapped back towards the front of the house, just in time to see Eijiro, dressed in an impressive werewolf costume, literally throw someone out of the party. The guy drunkenly stumbled off, Eijiro walking over towards where Hanta was standing with you. "Y/N, you good?"

You nodded while Hanta tried to piece together what'd happened. "Sorry, it took me a second to find the bastard. Do ya wanna come back in? I'll make sure he leaves."

"No, Eijiro, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home."

The wolfman frowned but understood. "We'll have a smaller party for ya! Just the gang as a welcome home! You know Denki will look for any excuse to throw a party." He turned his gaze on Hanta. "A mummy, really?"

"You've been a damn werewolf for the last two years! You don't get to give me crap."

Eijiro poked the fuzzy pointed red ears carefully set into his spiky hair. "Mina and I worked real hard on this costume... seemed like a waste to only wear it once."

"We both know you haven't just worn those once, big man."

That got a chuckle out of you while all Eijiro could do was shrug and try to hide a shit-eating grin.

He asked you again if you'd like to stay and once more you said you were going to just head home. It was when you specifically said you were going to be walking home that Hanta spoke up offering to drive you back to your home since it was Halloween and people were creeps.

You were a damn pro hero but he still didn't feel right about just letting you walk home alone.

When you agreed he told Eijiro he'd be back soon and walked over with you to his car.

>>><<<

A part of you missed the old station wagon Hanta used to drive, not that this BMW he now drove wasn't absolutely amazing, you just sort of missed the comfort of the old car.

He waited until he'd reached the end of Denki's long, winding driveway to finally speak. "So, you wanna tell me what happened back there, or am I just supposed to pretend like Kiri didn't kick someone out on your behalf?"

"You could probably just ask Kiri and he'd tell you."

"I could, but, I'd like to hear it from you."

You knew you could tell him, there was nothing you couldn't tell Hanta. There was once a time when the man knew every single detail about your life. Sure, time and distance had put a strain on that relationship but you were back now. There was no reason why you couldn't at least start rebuilding what you and Hanta once had.

"Y/N, if you don't wanna say anything-"

"I was just casually seeing this guy. You know me and dating, how we don't always work out." You said abruptly and he quit talking, "And so, we weren't like official but we said we'd go to this party together. Well, I got here and went looking for him and found him making out with one of Hawks' sidekicks. I got a little upset when he noticed me and, well, he just said he found someone better."

Hanta actually stopped the car, pulled off to the side of the road, threw it in park, and looked right at you because he knew what found someone better meant exactly. You'd used those words in high school when that guy from Shiketsu that you'd been seeing got pissed off that you wouldn't put out and ended it with you. You went to his dorm crying because he 'found someone better', is what you told him. It took him a few hours to get the truth out of you.

You'd always been the kind of person to love with your entire heart but sexually, you'd confessed that you felt different from all the other kids your age back then. Not having the same urges and desires that everyone else seemed stricken with.

"Hanta, it's fine, really. Kiri heard the whole thing and, well, you saw what happened."

"Doesn't make it right! So, you went on a couple dates with a guy, that doesn't mean he just gets to expect you to put out for him! Even if you weren't demi, no one gets to just assume they deserve sex."

His lips were pressed in a narrow line, nostrils flared once in annoyance. He was usually so calm and laid back that you thought it rather cute when he got overprotective. "It's alright, Hants, really."

He still gave you a look that said he disagreed but then shook his head, dropping the subject for now at least.

"Still like those late-night drives?"

"I love them."

"Good."

Hanta waited for a car to pass and whipped the car in the other direction.

It wasn't long before he had the windows rolled down, conversations filling in the blanks of lost time, in between belting out choruses of your favorite songs. Minutes slipped by the further he drove, you lost track of both time and kilometers, letting him tell you all about the ridiculous antics the group had been up to.

Eventually, you caught the scent of salty air and even in the dark, you had a pretty good idea where Hanta was going. He followed a winding road, making two left turns and then a right leaving you on a stretch of road that paralleled the ocean.

You let your head fall against the seat, eyes falling shut and inhaling that wonderful smell you missed so much. Hanta had just one hand lazily on the wheel, his elbow resting out the open window, a relaxed smile was illuminated in soft orange lights off his dash.

You let your head roll onto his shoulder, not as easily done without the bench seat in his station wagon but it worked nonetheless. "Thanks."

His free hand came to rest on your knee, "Anytime."

He turned the wheel, pulling over and parking in front of a small beach access that you guys had found at 3 in the morning five years prior. Hanta kicked off his shoes, leaving them in the car to avoid them being sand-filled and you did the same with the knee-high boots purely because you longed to feel the sand between your toes.

The wooden planks were worn, parts buried beneath the sand until eventually, none remained. Breaking waves flooded your ears and you made a run for them! Before you could reach the lapping water though, tape had wound around your middle and yanked you backward.

"Not happening!" Hanta said firmly. "Last time I let you talk me into late-night swimming we didn't have a change of clothes either and we both got so sick! I think I might have actually died without Bakugo's soup!"

You chuckled, remembering being nineteen and curled up with Hanta on the sofa in the living room of the apartment you all shared for nearly a week. The sniffles didn't cease for almost three weeks.

"Okay, okay, no swimming." You flopped back down into the sand, his tape still attached meaning the cellophane hero was pulled down with you. "Tell me about the stars then, Hants. Who's out tonight?"

Astronomy was a hobby of Hanta's you learned about after moving into the dorms your first year. It wasn't uncommon to find him out on the roof most nights, laying on his back and looking up into the clear night sky littered with twinkling stars, usually with a joint pressed between his lips. It became almost a habit for him to grab you on his way up, pulling you along because you were more than happy listening to him tell you about each constellation and the stories behind them.

It was around this time of year, in your final year of high school; somewhere between him recalling the greek mythos of Aries and Sagittarius that you noticed your heart beating a little faster. You realized something had shifted between the two of you, and, holy shit, was this what it felt like to have a crush! When the hell did that happen?

You'd entrusted everything to Hanta back then, and now, laying in the sand shoulder to shoulder while he talked about Draco, that familiar feeling stirred again. You remembered what it was supposed to be like when you weren't forcing it for some random guy. How simple it was supposed to be.

You inclined on an elbow and he stopped mid-sentence. "Eh, everything alright?" You nodded but he looked anything but convinced, mirroring your position and asking you again.

It was easy for you to lean forward, to brush your lips against his for the first time in three years. And, when you pulled away, he looked about as shocked as he had the night you'd done it when you were eighteen.

"You- you still like me?"

When you left for America, you'd both agreed to put a pause on your sort of relationship. Free to date and screw whomever you pleased because three years was a long time and it just seemed like a fair decision to make. The realization that he might now have someone else special in his life dawned on you...

"Yeah but I totally understand if things are different now and I shoulda asked- oof!"

He kissed you so hard you toppled back into the sand, quick pecks, one right after another, ending them with a long one that nearly left you breathless.

"I didn't know how to bring it up. I didn't want to make you feel awkward about things or make you think I expected something. I thought that maybe since we didn't talk for a while your feelings might have changed."

"I can say with confidence they haven't."

"Thank fuck." He groaned and captured your lips in another searing kiss.

It was easy to lift his shirt off, the shreds of tape that remained were now covered with gritty sand that clung to your fingers as you traced the chest and torso you knew so well. Gliding over defined muscles, lingering on old scars and mapping out new ones he'd collected in your time apart.

His own hands were busy flicking open the brass fastenings of your corset, huffing about it being so much more difficult to get to your chest and something about it being very unfair.

By the time he'd undone the last one, bright headlights shown across the beach. "Shit."

Giggling ensued from the walkway and you both sighed, at least it wasn't the police or a hero patrol. Hanta gathered his shirt and ran back to his car with his hand in yours.

"I thought our days of being caught were over."

"At least it wasn't Mr. Aizawa this time."

A chill ran down your spine remembering the night and the lecture you'd received when your teacher had caught Hanta sneaking out of your room early one morning.

"So, uh, do you still plan on going to Denki's party?" You asked innocently enough but Hanta knew you far too well.

"I think I'm gonna miss it this year." His hand found a home on your upper thigh. "Apparently, you and I have a lot of catching up to do. Lost time to make up for and all that."

"Too bad you don't have that old station wagon anymore. If you did, we wouldn't have to wait to get back."

Dark eyes glanced over at you not so subtly parting your legs.

"I dunno. It's not too often I travel in the backseat of my own car but I've been told it's pretty roomy. Lots of legroom."

Your hand ran over your legs, dipping down to lightly brush your more sensitive parts, thankful you opted for the thin pair of black leggings rather than the dark skinny jeans. Your fingers danced again and this time you let a soft moan pass your lips. "Eyes on the road, Hants."

"That's a little hard to do when I've got you spread out in the passenger's seat." He grabbed your free hand and pressed it against the bulge in his pants. "You've got me distracted, filthy little woman."

You appreciated him testing the waters, a subtle way of checking if you liked those nicknames he used only in private with you, giving you a chance to protest if your likes had changed. They were one's that only felt right coming from him and you were eager to hear more.

Forgoing your own high, you leaned over the center console as best you could, undoing his belt first, followed quickly by his zipper letting his strained cock be free.

His grip tightened on your leg when you kissed the tip of him. "Just like old times, huh?"

A chuckle turned quickly into a moan, taking him in your mouth, pushing yourself further on his cock, fighting your gag reflex to get him down your throat. Hanta reclined his seat further, giving you more room to work with.

Your legs clenched tighter with every groan you pulled from him, wiggling your hips in the seat, letting a hand fall back between your own legs. There was an attempt of a moan around his cock when his fingers coiled in your hair. "Such a good slut. Keep fuckin' goin'." He let you continue at your own speed, needing to focus as best he could on the road rather than what you were doing but, damn, you were making that increasingly difficult.

He wasn't stopping you though. He rarely did. You'd sucked him off on countless drives before and only stopped when- "That's it." He lifted you off him by your hair at the same time he pulled off the road. There was a convenient turn-off, hidden by overgrown brush you noticed before he shut off the headlights.

Hanta took you by the chin, smearing drool. "Backseat, pretty girl." He reached into the glove box and pulled out a foil wrapper, "What do you say we test out that legroom?"

He wait to watch your smile grow wide before crawling into the back because he had to be the first to go if this had any chance of working. Once situated, pants under his thighs, he patted his lap for you to climb over.

You slid easily onto his lap, hands traveling up and over his shoulders, kissing hard while you rocked your hips against impossibly hard length.

There was so much comfort in the familiarity of him. It wasn't awkward to fall back into rhythm with Hanta, to remember that he loved the feeling of your nails dragging down his chest. And he was just as eager to get your shirt off, reach your breasts he'd missed so much, and get his tongue on your nipples.

Your head tipped backward, loving the pace he set, hips bouncing creating the perfect tug on your nipples between his teeth.

"Love, if I promise to buy you a new pair, can I rip these damn leggings? They're just so thin and-"

"Please." Your breathy moan had him smirking and with a single grunt the leggings were ruined, cool air from the vents had only a moment to touch your bare ass before Hanta's hands reclaimed it.

There was no way he hadn't felt your arousal before ripping your clothes off, you soaked through your panties and leggings, you knew that, but that didn't stop him from commenting on how soaked you were now on his fingers. "Want me inside you, whore? I think you do."

You nodded with a whimper and he slipped a finger in. "Hants, noo- I- I want your cock, please."

"You're gonna take my fingers like a good little slut first." You clenched at the words falling from his mouth. "So fuckin' tight you can barely take a finger. How'm I supposed to fit in here if you can even take a single finger? Need you to loosen up, alright." He pushed another finger in, scissoring the two inside you.

"This gonna make you cum? You need this bad, don't you? Tell me. Tell me how bad you need to cum."

"I want it. Please, please, I need it. I'm so close," You babbled and ripped the foil open with his teeth, rolling it with one hand on his cock. In an instant, his fingers had been replaced with this dick. Sticky fingers on your ass helping you ease down on him with a hiss.

"Fuck," Hanta let out a throaty chuckle, "You still fuckin' feel the absolute best." He dropped a kiss between your breasts, letting you adjust to his girth. "Perfect. Good girl. Such a fuckin' good little slut."

He wasn't about to last long. Not once you started bouncing up and down on him, your tits right in front of his face.

"Couldn't even wait for me to get you home, had to fucking tease me in the damn car." He held onto the fat of your ass, pulling you along him and slamming you down hard.

"Kinda pathetic how desperate you are. Fuck. Kinda hot too."

When the top of your head bumped the roof of the car, he scooted lower, trying to give you as much room to ride him however you pleased.

"What do you need? You wanna cum, don't you, pretty girl, what do you need?"

"Faster, faster please."

Hanta shifted even lower, making you grab onto the two headrests while he thrust his hips up into you at a rapid speed. His thumb on your clit was the additional stimulation you needed to fall over the edge. Nails clawing at the black leather as he continued to moan below you now chasing his own release.

You stayed poised above him, using every last bit of strength to stay upright until his mouth was rambling and his cock pulsed inside of you. Fingers bruising your skin before holding your pelvis snuggly against his.

He was bent in a way that looked entirely uncomfortable and yet he still smiled so widely. Reaching up to brush hair out of your eyes, "You okay?"

"Perfects, Hants. A little sore but I'm sure you are too." He moved off his lap, letting him slip out of you with a groan, "Is your neck gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Having you back, love, is more than worth a little bit of a neck cramp."

As he tied a knot in the condom, depositing it into a plastic bag he had tucked away under his seat, Hanta raised a brow, "Love, really, are you alright? Please, tell me if I hurt you at all."

"No! I'm good, why?"

"You're sitting silly."

You were sitting a little odd, perched on your knees rather than sitting on your ass because the leather was chilly and you told Hanta as much making him laugh. "Wait, I think I can help." He leaned back to the front of the car, flicking a button making it glow. Once he tucked himself back in his pants he hopped out of the car and you could see him rummaging in his trunk through the rear window.

"I keep forgetting to take this out from our camping trip a couple months ago. Guess it turned out to be a good thing." He laid the blanket down over the passenger's seat, declaring that should help a bit.

You wrapped the now toasty warm blanket around your bottom half while Hanta drove back towards the city, your head on his shoulder, his hand on your thigh.

"So, shopping tomorrow? I believe I owe you a pair of leggings..."

"It's a date."

[rek1s-headband]

hi! figured i’d drop a request for you :))! Maybe some general bf hcs for reki and langa? Just in general how they would be as a boyfriend or how they would act in a relationship?

Hi!! Thank you so much for your request, I’ve been excited to do one of these. I hope you enjoy it!

➯ random boyfriend headcannons

➯ characters: Reki Kyan and Langa Hasegawa x gn reader

➯ warnings: none! Just some fluff for these two boys:)

Reki:

-Literally the most enthusiastic person you’ve ever seen. He’d be happy to just sit in silence with you because come on, it’s YOU. There’s no one he’d rather be wasting the hours away with.

-Your biggest hype man, EVER. You post something on Instagram? Get ready for a flood of comments, all from him. You could put your phone down for two minutes after posting, and you’ll come back to 99+ notifications of just reki commenting along the lines of “woah suddenly I’m on one knee” “DAMNNNN” and many, many more.

-Never leave your phone unattended around him. He won’t snoop, but be prepared to come back to your camera roll flooded with just zoomed in pictures of his face, his mouth, his eye, ANYWHERE. Mf is spamming your whole phone with pictures of him for you to come back to.

-He has to always be touching you in some way. Whether it’s holding your hand, your waist, a casual arm around your shoulder, there has to be something. He’ll put his hand on your ass sometimes while you walk in public.

-Honestly doesn’t even think PDA is anything out of the ordinary. Like, you’re his s/o??? Yes you’re in his lap, yes you’re in the middle of the skatepark, so what? You’re his, and he’s happy he can make everyone aware of that.

-I saw a post on here that said he would peel stickers off fruit and stick them to peoples’ foreheads, and I fully stand by this. However, it doesn’t just stop at fruit stickers. Anything remotely sticky, whether it’s tags from clothes, tape from a food box, even random sequins and bits of glitter he finds around, it’s immediately being stuck to some part of your face.

-Loves casual dates. Stopping by food stalls, browsing in clothes and game stores for a few hours, and skating around with you until it’s time to go home is a dream for him. Be prepared for day-long dates, because he will clear his entire schedule just to spend the day with you.

-His family adores you. His mother is always goading him to bring you over more, complaining that she misses her "honorary son/daughter/child". His sisters love you too. Any time you come over there’s immediately three tiny bodies shooting at you, grabbing you by the waist and dragging you over to wherever they’re playing. Reki tries to drag you away, wanting to have you for himself, but you always try and stay for at least five or ten minutes. Secretly, he loves that you get along so well with his siblings, going soft at the thought of how you would act with children of your own.

-He loves playing video games with you. Sitting in his lap, the two of you could spend hours switching from game to game. One minute you could be burning down a village in Minecraft, the next complaining while Reki whoops your ass in Mario Kart. His mom brings you food for your breaks between games, and she’ll even stay for a few minutes to talk to you while Reki shifts underneath you, glowing red from embarassment.

-If you can’t skate, he would beg to teach you. If you accept, he goes all out. He’ll make you your own customised board just for practicing, making sure it’s absolutely perfert for you to learn on. But if you can skate, get ready for endless races and competitions to see who can nail a new trick the quickest.

-Adores when you come to S to support him. He loves looking into the crowd and seeing you there cheering him on before he goes into a beef. If he wins, he’ll race over to where you are in the crowd, picking you up and spinning you around, kissing you without a care in the world. However, if he loses he’s thankful you’re always there to pick him back up and make him feel better afterwards.

-Loves cleaning you up after a big fall, kissing your bruises and cuts better. He’ll carefully wrap each injury with care, telling you how brave you are, no matter how small the cut. Secretly, he loves when you baby him after he falls himself. Seeing you wipe away the blood from a new cut and place a small plaster on it with such tenderness melts his heart in a way only you could.

-Speaking of plasters, this man has one for every occasion. Princesses, pirates, aliens, cats, dogs, sparkles, stripes, you name it, he’s got it.

-The type to sneak you out at two in the morning to get a slushee with him. Honestly, he’s up so late making boards for people he just has no perception of time.

-Spams your phone with TikToks or other funny things that reminds him of you. It could be a very specific thing, or a flower or cloud. If he thinks of you when he sees it(which is fairly often), it gets sent to you.

-Talks with his hands a lot. He’s a very expressive talker, so when he’s telling you a story it feels like you’re right there in the story with him.

-Please just kiss him. His cheeks, his forehead, his hand, his shoulder, his temples, his lips. Anywhere, he’ll melt under you. Mf is touch starved to the max.

-Always knows how to make you laugh. His laugh is infectious, it could get you out of your darkest moods.

-Sleeps with his head on your chest, and one hand in your shirt little perv.

-His social media is like a SHRINE for you. His highlights, his posts, his stories, EVERYWHERE. He’s just so proud to be able to call you his that he wants the whole world to know.

-Kisses in the rain while you run home, skateboards in your hands after the weather forecast failed you once again. He’s just so happy in the moment that he can’t contain himself, so he’s pulling you into him in the pouring rain, kissing you hard while your hair gets drenched.

-You don’t need to steal his clothes, he will literally give them to you because “you just look so cute wearing them”. Occasionally, he’ll take one of your hoodies, and even if it doesn’t exactly fit him, he’ll still keep it near him while he sleeps so he can keep your scent close to him.

Langa:

-This man is so oblivious to obvious hints, but still manages to pick up on the smallest of details? It’s incredible, honestly. He could describe the exact colour of your eyes with the most insane detail, but he still won’t notice when you try and hint that you like him in the first place!

-You two have a bit more of a low-key relationship, but you’ll make your usual appearance in his Instagram posts, or on his Snapchat story with a casual caption like a simple heart, or “my love<3”

-Not very big on PDA, not because he doesn’t like it, but because he doesn’t think of it. However, when he does feel like he’s being too physically distant, he’ll link pinkies with you as you walk along, or rest his head on your shoulder while you watch a video on your phone.

-His mom adores you, which is why Langa despises bringing you to his house. You always seem to leave with seven of his baby photos from his time snowboarding in Canada, a new recipe from his mother that you complimented, another one of his hoodies, and more miscellaneous stuff that you don’t even know how it ended up in your bag. He has a little shelf in your room specifically for this random stuff, and he always adds to the collection when he comes to your house. He’ll leave a keyring, a small toy, a Polaroid, anything honestly.

-Loves dates that you can experience. The movies, aquariums, museums and the zoo are common dates for the two of you to go on, but other than that, he adores going skateboarding with you. He’s been improving, and he loves when you notice little things he’s been picking up on, whether it be a new trick or simply how he balances himself on the board.

-Adores old Disney movies. Yall will binge a ton of them in one day, having full-blown musicals in Langa’s living room. When any of the romantic songs come on, like “So this is Love” from Cinderella, Langa will stand up and offer his hand to you, as the two of you waltz around his sitting room, humming the tune of the song.

-Study dates are frequent with the two of you. If you happen to stay up late studying and fall asleep on each other, his mother will cover the two of you with a blanket, tidying some of your books and leaving with a smile, happy with the knowledge you were making her son the happiest he’s been in quite a while.

-Slow dancing in the kitchen while you cook is a regular. When a particularly sappy love song comes on while he stirs the pot, he’ll turn around and hold you close to him, twirling you around the kitchen.

-Reki constantly jokes that he is a third wheel, poking fun at the two of you, Cherry and Joe, and Shadow and “his little girlfriend back at the flower shop”. He’ll hang out of Miya, whining about them having to stick together since they’re the only two “lone wolves”. He’ll usually get a well-earned thump into the back of the head from Miya, but it’s still funny to watch the whole thing go down.

-Tends to be shy when giving you clothes, so instead of asking you to wear them he’ll leave them out in places he knows you’ll find them, or he’ll come up behind you and plop it in your lap, murmuring about how cute it would look on you.

-Please do this man’s makeup. He will sit so still for you, waiting patiently while you dab eyeshadow at his eyes, trying not to blink so you don’t mess up his mascara. He’ll sit there mesmerised for a few minutes, taking in how he looks, and simply whisper “you do this every day?”

-Evem though he’s not a very openly affectionate person, he is stuck to your hip behind closed doors. He’ll lie in your lap for hours, staring up at you while you mess with his hair, pulling it into little plaits and pigtails.

-I can’t even describe how the two of you sleep. It’s simply a mass of limbs, and no one knows exactly what belongs to who. Somehow one of yall will end up upside down, and-why is Langa on the floor??

-He could talk about his time in Canada for hours, and you’d just lie on his chest and listen to him. Every once in a while he’ll look down at you to see if you’re still listening, and his heart will melt a little every time he sees you staring back up at him, eyes wide with interest.

-This man NEVER gets jealous. You’d literally have to cling to another man for it to click in his brain that Oh. He doesn’t like that.

-He’s not big on texting, but if you call him he will stay on that call with you for hours, even after the two of you fall asleep.

-Whenever he falls(which is quite often), you’ll always have plasters on hand to help fix him up. He always flushes bright red when you kiss his cuts better, and never knows just what to do with himself afterwards.

-When he skates against tough opponents, you’ll always give him a kiss for good luck. Of course, this doesn’t stop you worrying, but you know Langa wouldn’t go out of his way to get injured. And if he does, well, at least he’ll have you there to kiss his bruises better.

[ptergwen]

only you and me

w/c: 6.7k

warnings: angst, mentions of weed, and some swearing

summary: whenever peter tries to tell you how he feels, harry gets in the way

a/n: ahhhh hi my loves! my mini writing break is over :,) life has been just a mess for me and i’ve been way more critical than usual about my work but i’m doing a little better and ready to get back into everything! this helped me a lot so i’m excited to share it with y’all <3 it’s also my first time writing harry osborn so lmk how i did lmaooofwfjj but yeah pls enjoy

-

“dude, she’s right there! just tell her!” ned whisper yells to peter, elbowing him for emphasis. they’re hidden behind a wall to watch you at your locker. you’re grabbing books while betty rants to you and mj rolls her eyes. “not now. she looks... busy,” peter gulps, gaze trailing down your body. he always finds excuses to put off telling you how he feels.

or rather, excuses find him. something comes up every time he gets the courage to do it. he has no idea why he’s so scared because he’s pretty sure you like him back. pretty sure. there are a few reasons why you might not. also, plenty why you might. you stay up late texting most nights, and you’ve even flirted a couple of times. it never fails to make peter blush. he trips over his words whenever he tries to flirt back.

he’s had feelings for you since the first time you two hung out alone. none of your other friends could make it, but you happily took him up on his offer to come over. you grinned through his whole apartment tour, asked about may and what she does. when peter showed you his room, you even complimented his movie posters, much to his surprise.

“really? you don’t think they’re, like, dorky?”

“no, peter. your interests aren’t dorky. everyone likes what they like.”

and, he liked you. he knew it from that point on. you’d know it too if the universe wouldn’t keep stopping him from saying that.

“she’s so...” peter pauses for a second. him and ned watch you pull betty in by her shoulders as if you’re going to kiss her. she dodges you, mj pushing her back, all three of you giggling about it before you grab betty’s hands and give her words of encouragement. “cool,” peter finishes, turning back to ned. “i mean, how she puts herself out there like that.”

“what’s stopping you from doing the same thing?” ned points out with a knowing smile that peter returns. you make it look so easy. whenever you’re comfortable around people, you can let go of any doubts you have. you stop worrying about what they might think and instead do what you want. it’s inspiring to peter, and heart warming getting to be one of the people you’re fully you with.

he wishes he could apply your wisdom himself.

peter shakes his head, staring down at the floor. “oh, you know. anxiety, fear of rejection. that fun stuff.” “so, yourself,” ned concludes, clapping peter’s backpack so hard it makes him stumble forward. betty and mj wave goodbye to you before heading to their first class. you’re still getting your things together at your locker. this is peter’s moment.

“come on, dude! y/n’s not busy anymore. you got this.” ned keeps his hand on peter’s back, adding on, “it’s been a year already.” “half a year,” peter corrects him in a mumble. he’s liked you for a really long time. “ok, i’m going. wish me luck.” he takes a deep breath and focuses in on you. “aw, dude. you don’t need it.” ned gives him one last pat on the back. “good luck, though.” “thanks, man. see you in trig.”

right as peter starts heading over, harry comes up behind you and covers your eyes. you squeal, jumping up and turning to him, laughing as you playfully hit at his chest. he brings you into a hug where your face is buried in his sweater and probably inhaling his super strong, super expensive cologne.

that’s what’s stopping peter, harry freaking osborn. his own friend.

peter quickly loses the tiny bit of confidence ned gave him. he figures it might be better to hold off on his confession and get an early start to class. unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen. harry has already spotted him and calls him over.

“hey, pete! come give us some love, eh?” harry beams, an arm slung around your shoulders and you smiling up at him. you direct your smile to peter when he slumps his way to your locker. his lips pull into a barely noticeable frown. you notice. “there’s my guy. why so down, sunshine?” harry offers his fist for a fist bump. peter gives it to him, eyes staying on you.

harry osborn. where to begin with such a specimen? he’s the perfect combination of everything you’d want in a guy. he gets good grades, he’s a star player on on the basketball team, nice to everyone and makes you laugh, popular yet fits right into your small group.

he was friends with you before the popular thing. what kicked it off was him making varsity basketball while only being a sophomore. yep, he’s unreal. since then, he’s been balancing his cool life and also hanging with “the nerds,” as he likes to call you. he got his own feelings for you along the way. peter can tell.

he’ll give you rides home, compliment how you look, basically act like your boyfriend without really being it. it absolutely infuriates peter because he doesn’t compare to harry in the slightest. if he were you and had the choice between himself or harry, he would pick harry.

it’s been a factor in why he hasn’t come clean about how he feels yet. he’s not trying to create a love triangle that he doesn’t stand a chance surviving in.

“for real, peter. you good?” you ask him, eyebrows knitted together in concern. “fine,” peter lies and musters up a smile. “i’m just tired. didn’t sleep too good last night.” you’re only more concerned now. this has been happening to him a lot lately. you search for his eyes. “again?”

“aw, man. you need something for it?” harry punches peter’s shoulder and lowers his voice. “i know this kid who-“ “harry, stop.” your words are serious, tone lighthearted. you throw your head back on his arm. “do you really know a kid?” “i’m not telling you,” he says in an overly happy voice, you humming the same way. peter feels like he’s third wheeling.

“i was telling pete.” harry looks at him expectantly, peter’s mouth dropping open while he thinks of what to say. harry likes to mess around. this is a different level, though. “no thanks. i- i shouldn’t. i’m-“ “relax, i don’t know a kid,” harry chuckles and points at peter. “your face right now.” it’s completely flushed. you knock into harry’s side.

“ok, well literally no one laughed. you’re scaring him,” you tell harry sternly. peter tugs tight on one of his backpack straps. he doesn’t feel like he’s third wheeling you two now. he feels like your kid. he’ll never let ned mettle in his love life ever again if this is where it gets him. “he knows i’m kidding, y/n/n. right?” harry checks with peter. you make a face at him that says you aren’t convinced.

he switches his arm from you to peter, drawing him into his side. “look, pete. i’m sorry. the only kid i know who’s selling is chocolates for his band trip.” you’re satisfied with that, grinning at both of them. peter forces a laugh and nods. “no worries, man. i gotta get to class.” “good boy,” harry lets him go. “bye, pete. we’ll see you at lunch,” you remind him. he gives you a tight lipped smile. “see you, y/n/n.”

you and harry continue practically spooning each other as soon as peter is out of sight.

what the hell is going on?

peter is back to being grumpy, plopping down in his seat next to ned. their teacher has the lesson plan pulled up on the smart board. ned looks from it to peter, almost jumping in his seat. “oh, you’re back already? how’d it go?” “it didn’t go,” peter huffs, copying down the aim. he’s only doing it so he doesn’t have to look ned in the eyes while telling him he bailed. again.

“you didn’t do it?” ned repeats, peter writing something about pi and a unit circle in his notebook. he bites the inside of his cheek. “you have to do it at some point,” ned sighs out and picks up his pencil. even he’s getting tired of this, and ned never gets tired of a good friends to lovers moment. “i think she likes harry,” peter says under his breath. “huh?” ned gasps.

peter doesn’t feel like explaining the extremely awkward moment he just finished living. although, it wouldn’t hurt to get a second opinion. “y/n. he came over, and they kept hugging and whatever.” “they always do that,” ned almost scoffs, their trigonometry teacher moving to stand in front of the class. “yeah, but he had his arm around her the whole time we-“

the bell rings and cuts their conversation short. peter struggles to label the unit circle they learn about when his mind is filled to its capacity with images of you and harry all over each other. it’s not daydreaming. this is a nightmare. maybe, he actually will be having sleep problems.

peter’s morning is relatively decent after that. he gets to do an experiment with mj in chemistry, and she lets him take the lead for once. spanish is easy, health is okay, then he has a free period, then it’s lunch. things can only go downhill from here.

he thinks about hiding in the library until it’s over, but it’s the thought of harry eating your face that gets him to drag himself to the cafeteria.

flash is at the head of your table talking to harry when peter gets there. great, now he can’t eat his soggy chicken fingers in peace. “sounds dope. let’s go on the-“ flash stops saying what he was saying and nods at peter. “penis parker, you’re late.” peter takes his seat on your left, harry on your right. you glance over at him to make sure he’s okay. he acts like he doesn’t care, peeling open his milk carton.

“just text me later, man. get outta here,” harry dismisses flash, the two of them doing a bro handshake before he leaves. he’s well aware of his and peter’s history. he keeps them separate for the obvious reasons. peter appreciates it because saying no to flash is nearly impossible. he shouldn’t be so mad at harry, should he? he’s a good friend.

harry’s arm snakes around your waist and brings you closer to him. never mind.

“who’s up for sushi later?” he asks the table, everyone agreeing and saying how awesome that sounds. everyone except peter. you tap his shoulder with a small smile. “what about you, peter? you coming?” he realizes you’re all waiting for him to respond and puts down his milk. “uh, i can’t. homework,” he lamely answers.

“dude, we have homework, too. just do it a little later,” ned suggests, betty laying her head on his shoulder. you share a look with her, your eyes wide and a grin on your lips. that must have been what you were talking about this morning. she asked for boy advice. ned advice. why can’t this crap work out for peter?

“i really can’t. sorry, guys,” peter half heartedly apologizes.

he misses the disappointment that crosses your features because he’s pouting at his lunch again.

“homework, huh?” mj tests him, squinting as she takes a sip of apple juice. harry nudges peter’s side with two fingers. “you still mad about the sleeping thing?” “sleeping thing? what sleeping thing?” betty wonders while ned rests his head against hers. a quiet laugh slips out of you as you lean in to tell her.

“peter said he couldn’t sleep last night, so harry offered him...” you mime rolling a joint. “i said no,” peter clarifies, rolling his eyes at the inevitable teasing he’s about to get. none of you have even smoked besides harry. you’re being annoying about it. “of course you did,” mj sighs and kicks her feet up on the table. “unrelated to what y/n just said... harry, i have insomnia.”

everyone bursts into laughter at that, betty shoving her side and you pulling harry by his torso as he pretends to go into his backpack. peter wants nothing to do with any of this. he usually enjoys joking around with the group, even if it’s at his expense because it’s from a place of love.

today feels like you’re straight up making fun of him. harry might as well invite flash to join in.

“alright, alright, alright. enough of the weed talk,” harry decides, you removing your arms from him and grabbing your coffee. “you’re such a bad influence.” your voice drips with sarcasm. you bend the straw and take a sip while scooting closer to peter. “you really can’t come later? i feel like i’ve barely seen you today.” that’s on harry. “i wish i could, y/n/n,” peter exhales. “i’ll text you later, okay?”

you don’t get to answer because mj tugs on your arm, distracting you from peter. she explains how she has to do an art project on what it means to be a woman and needs help brainstorming ideas. you’re full of them, offering up an interesting perspective for her to use. peter smiles to himself as he listens in. you find a new way to impress him every day.

he should tell you that.

“hey, y/n?” “listen to her! you’re seriously my idol,” betty gushes, so loudly you don’t hear peter. not a single thing has gone in his favor at this table. he gives up.

peter locks himself in his room when he gets home from his overall terrible day. he does homework like he said he would, only taking a break for dinner, giving one word replies to may’s questions about school. he’d much rather be having sushi with you. he would’ve gone if the others didn’t.

after dinner, it’s back to grumbling and scribbling down answers. there’s a knock at peter’s door around ten o’clock, which he assumes is may saying goodnight. “i’ll be done in a few minutes, may! love you.” “it’s y/n,” you reply, the smile clear in your voice. his eyes go comically wide. that’s the last thing he expected to hear. “oh. uh, come in.”

you’re holding a small takeout bag, shutting the door behind you and walking over to his desk. you meet his twinkling eyes in the dim light that hits off his walls. from his open window, you faintly hear cars as they rush by and honk their horns in the distance, accompanied by a fresh breeze. it’s cozy, safe. it’s peter.

“hey. what’re you doing here?” peter questions, leaving his pencil in his binder and shutting it. you shake around the plastic bag. “i saved you a roll.” he bites back a smile, getting up from his chair. “may let me in. she was really chill about it,” you continue and hold out the sushi for him. “it’s a california roll. i wasn’t sure what you wanted, and everyone likes those.”

peter lets his smile spread out and takes the bag from you. “thanks, y/n/n. i was honestly hoping one of you would have leftovers.” you laugh softly, peter setting the bag down on his desk. he scratches the back of his neck. “did you guys have fun?” “yeah. i missed you, though.” you clasp your hands behind your back. “everyone did.”

“i feel bad i didn’t go. just... things felt off today,” peter admits the real reason he stayed home, you letting out a breath. “it was harry, wasn’t it? god, he was being so weird.” your arms drop back to your sides. “there’s a difference between playing around and actually upsetting people.” by people, you mean peter. no one else seemed too bothered by him. “i’m sorry, peter. i tried to make him stop.”

“no, you don’t have to apologize,” peter assures you sweetly, grabbing one of your hands. “it’s not your fault, okay? he probably didn’t realize what he was doing. the jokes landed.” he’s referring to ned, mj, and betty finding harry’s comments hilarious. you lace your fingers with peter’s and frown. “this isn’t like him. maybe he’s stressed about a game.” your gaze drifts off to the side, what you see getting you to perk up.

“is that new?” you ask peter, leading him by his hand over to a poster he put up recently. it’s for 13 going on 30. you showed it to him a couple of weeks ago, and he clearly liked it a lot. any movie that makes it to peter’s wall is a special one. “mhm. i got it literally right after you went home the night we watched,” he chuckles and looks over at you while you study the poster.

you turn to face peter again, keeping your hand tight in his. “were you gonna tell me something earlier? at lunch?” he’s confused for a second, then he remembers your ideas for mj’s art project. the fact that you cared enough to bring it up after all these hours makes his stomach do summersaults in the best way. he shrugs and gives you a smile.

“the stuff you were saying about femininity and how there are so many ways to define it,” peter starts, you grinning back at him, at how he took an interest in what you were saying. “you’re so smart, y/n. you make me wanna be better.” a light pink dusts his cheeks. “peter, you’re a feminist?” you coo, joking but genuinely wondering at the same time. he squeezes your hand. “duh.”

“i thought so,” you nod, taking in the rest of what he said. “you think i’m smart? i trust you because you’re way smarter.” peter pffts in response. “i’m only good at, like, physics. you’re good at things that really matter. smart in that way.” you’re feeling your own face get hot. you swing yours and peter’s hands back and forth. “why are you the nicest person ever?”

the answer to that, may, peeks her head into the room. “hey, kids. it’s getting late.” she notices your intertwined hands and shoots peter a smirk. “i thought you were a cool aunt,” he teases, you sadly letting go of him. “she is. thanks for having me over so late,” you tell may on your way to the door. “oh, stop it. you can come over any time.” she puts a hand on your arm. “thank you so much,” you murmur back.

you walk backwards to the doorway, may leaving you two to say your goodbyes. “wanna hang out only you and me? on friday maybe?” that should make up for everything earlier. “yeah, of course. friday is perfect,” peter agrees and bounces on his feet as excitement takes over him. “thanks again for the sushi.”

“no problem. goodnight.” it’s taking every last bit of power in you to not freak out. “night. text me when you get home.” he presses his tongue into his cheek. you slowly pull the door shut. “ok, i will. bye!” it closes, leaving peter skipping across his room to his bed on one side and you doing a little happy dance on the other.

the next day at school, everything is back to normal. honestly, better than normal. your hangout with peter is tomorrow, and he’s planning on telling he likes you then. he already talked it over with ned. he’s relieved it’s finally happening, especially since him and betty have their own thing. she’ll be taking up most of his free time from here.

your group is spending lunch outside today, lounging across a picnic table, surrounded by trees and the shining sun in a bright blue sky. mj sits on the table and has her feet on the bench, which would usually bug peter to no end. he doesn’t mind this time because it takes up enough room that harry has to sit with ned and betty instead of you. you lean into peter’s side and stab a piece of lettuce from your salad.

“it’s so nice out,” betty sighs, ripping off half her cookie and giving it to ned. “we should ditch.” “oh my god, you sound like harry,” you groan between bites of salad. peter lets out a breathy laugh, you looping your arm through his. he grins down at where you’re linked. harry crosses his own arms over his chest. “she wishes.” betty only nods because her mouth is full of m&m’s.

“nah, seriously. i’d take us out somewhere, but i have practice after school.” he speaks quieter than he normally does, less confident. your theory about him having basketball drama was right. “what did we tell you? talk about the sports shit with your sports friends,” mj complains, sitting back on her hands. she glances at harry over her shoulder and catches ned mouthing you can’t say that.

sitting criss cross, she spins around to face harry, unenthusiastically saying, “what i meant was, you sound upset. what’s wrong?” harry gets into it right away, like he’s been waiting for someone to ask. “coach says there might be a scout at the next game. it’s a really good opportunity even though i don’t have to worry about... college yet.” the word makes him cringe.

“oh, damn. that’s a big deal. scary,” mj snorts, turning back to you and peter. her behavior makes ned internally face palm. “that’s awesome, dude. you’re gonna play amazing like always.” he gives harry a high five, who smiles nervously in response. he’s never nervous. “thanks, bro. you guys wanna come and watch?” he’s never invited you to one of his games before either.

this isn’t a group of friends that likes to spend their weekends in bleachers while angry teens shout around them.

“definitely. we’ll be there to support you, harry,” betty answers for everyone, ned pecking her cheek in satisfaction. mj cusses to herself before replying. “if i absolutely must, sure.” only you and peter haven’t said anything yet. he’s been chewing his lower lip, and you your salad. harry looks between you two hopefully. it’s more so at you, which peter doesn’t like.

“y/n? pete? it would help a lot, i’m serious.” he taps his fingers on the table until one of you speaks up. you’re the one who does. “i’ll go. this is pretty huge, right? congrats.” you reach across the table and squeeze his shoulder while simultaneously tightening your arm around peter’s. he takes that as a cue. “i’ll go, too. happy for you, man.”

though peter isn’t currently in the best place with harry, he should show his support by showing up. it can’t be too bad since the rest of you will be there.

a loud, long chuckle leaves harry as he hops up from his bench and comes to yours and peter’s. he bends over and wraps both of you in a hug from behind at the same time. his arms are around each of your shoulders, holding you so close his cheeks are squished against either of your heads. you giggle at that, peter finding himself laughing along and reaching back to ruffle harry’s hair.

staying mad at him is one of the world’s greatest challenges.

“you’re saints, both of you. my angels.” he kisses the back of your head, then lays one right on peter’s cheek, leaving him blushing red and grinning. “what about the rest of us? i never go to shit like this,” mj huffs and seems genuinely offended. harry wiggles his eyebrows. “you want a kiss?” his offer gets her flustered, which she can’t manage to hide. that’s a first.

“shut up. i’m just saying... never mind.” mj glares at you and peter, ned and betty making kissing noises behind her. “someone change the subject.” peter steps in. “when’s the game, harry?” he asks, harry snapping and waving his finger. “tomorrow! cancel your plans, kiddos.” “like we had any,” betty retorts.

some of you did. that was going to be peter’s hangout with you.

ned smiles sympathetically at peter before betty is getting his attention. you‘re unfazed and rambling to harry how proud you are of him.

did last night mean nothing? was it an empty gesture? were you only doing it out of guilt? peter must have read your visit wrong. he’s been wrong the whole time he’s liked you. you don’t like him back, you pity him. harry is who you’re really interested in.

may always says he should trust his instincts.

peter pulls his arm from yours suddenly, swinging his backpack onto his shoulders. you’re taken back because it’s so out of no where. you stop talking to harry so you can figure out his deal. “where are you going?” “bell’s gonna ring,” peter mumbles and picks up his lunch tray. he heads to the garbage can without another word or goodbye to anyone.

“i’m gonna go check on him,” you tell harry, already getting up from the bench. “you do that,” he acknowledges and calls mj’s name again.

peter tosses his mostly untouched food in the trash, seeing you make your way over from the corner of his eye. he tries to speed walk inside so he doesn’t have to talk to you. you’re too quick, cornering him between the door and brick wall.

“we still have ten minutes,” you state, worry flashing across your face. he’s avoiding you. well, attempting to. “what’s wrong?” peter gulps before saying anything. “my next class is on the other side of the-“ “no,” you cut him off. “what’s really wrong?”

he doesn’t feel like having this discussion. it’s bad enough he came to the realization his feelings are one sided. must he break that down for you so soon?

you toy with your sleeve while you speak because peter doesn’t. “i thought you and harry were fine again. i mean, he kissed you.” peter clenches his jaw so hard he can imagine the sound of it cracking. “it’s not about harry.” “what, then? what the fuck happened?” your sleeves are now balled in your fists. you hate it when peter does this angsty routine.

he keeps his voice low and calm so he doesn’t come off as jealous or hurt. he’s both of those things. “the game is tomorrow. friday. when we were supposed to hang out.” you meet peter’s eyes with nothing but remorse in yours. “i... i forgot,” is all you have to say.

you feel awful. he’s had a tough couple of days, and you fell through on your promise to cheer him up.

“clearly,” peter remarks, voice sharp. the way you’re looking at him makes him think he won’t like what’s coming. “peter, we have to go,” you almost whine. “i’m really sorry, i am, but this is a big night for harry. he needs us there.” peter stays silent. you’re twisting the knife deeper into him with every word. “i wouldn’t be cancelling if this wasn’t important.”

now you’re cancelling?

you reach for peter’s hand, but he shoves it into his pocket. that stings for you and him. “please, peter. we’ll hang out at the game, i swear.” this is the last chance you’ve got, so you pile it on. “harry won’t even be there, technically. he’ll... he’ll be on the court.” peter hadn’t thought about that. he lets himself unclench, starting to see the appeal. you add one more thing to lighten the mood and persuade him.

“i’ll buy you popcorn, all you can eat.” it’s that easy. cracking a smile, peter accepts. he’ll deal with his unresolved, unreciprocated feelings after he stuffs his face, courtesy of you. “you better. i’m gonna need it for this long ass game.” your face lights up, grabbing his wrist in both hands.

“so, you’ll come?” “i’ll be there,” he confirms. you throw your arms around his neck. he laughs into the hug and holds you by your middle. “i promise this’ll be the first and last game we ever go to,” you say and mean it. harry is lucky you’re even suffering through this a first time. “thank god,” peter exhales, resting his chin on your head.

that interaction leaves peter confused as hell. you’re crushing his mind and soul one minute, then hugging him the next. you were making him feel so special lasts night, and treating harry the same way today. it’s so jumbled that he isn’t sure if he’s in the friend zone or something more zone.

there are a ton of mixed signals coming his way, and he sucks at reading people as is.

he can’t take another second of this. he’d rather you come out and say you like harry already because it’s torture. knowing you don’t want him in that way would at least eliminate the possibility of anything happening between you two, and allow him to stop driving himself insane.

he’d be able to stop taking it out on harry, too.

the hold you have on peter, that you’re oblivious to, rules his every thought and decision. he’s constantly analyzing what you say to him, debating whether or not your affection is simply platonic. it’s been half a year of this madness, the night of harry’s game blurring every line so much more.

your group arrives a bit early to find seats and hype harry up before he plays. peter gets there after all of you because he’s not exactly in a rush to watch sweaty guys be aggressive. there’s only one upside, which is spending the night with you... and everyone else.

he steps into the gym that’s filling up fast with family members, friends, and the college scout harry was talking about. midtown has a different feeling to it at night. the smell of pencils is oddly stronger, and it’s a lot less intimidating.

cheerleaders are huddled in a circle while the team supervisor has them run their chants. the “leading official,” who peter thought was called a referee, takes his place off to the side. coaches give their players last minute instructions, players fool around with each other, a lot is going on.

peter scans the room for you, and grins a toothy grin when you catch his eyes. you’re sitting by yourself in one of the middle bleachers, only a bag of skinny pop in your lap. you return the smile once you spot him and wave him over.

“i don’t know why, but i thought they’d have an actual concession stand,” you explain the lack of fresh, buttery popcorn as peter takes a seat next to you. he catches the prepackaged bag you toss him. “it’s just a snack table.” “works either way,” peter hums and pokes the bag. “i’m not sure skinny pop is all i can eat, though.” “it’s good!” you defend the snack you chose for him.

“i’m kidding! you’re right, it’s kind of addicting.” he puts it by his feet for now and gives you a half smile. “you’re welcome,” you deadpan in a playful tone. “thanks.” he narrows his eyes. “where’s everyone else?” “right,” you twist around and gesture to the bleacher above you. mj is gloomily seated near the back. ned and betty are a few behind you.

“i told them to find their own seats so we can sit together, alone.” you look over at peter and move ever so slightly closer. “welcome to our friday hangout. just the two of us.” “aw, you didn’t have to do that,” peter laughs out, his knee bumping yours. “but, i’m happy you did.” he goes to put an arm around you, then harry comes racing up the stairs.

just the two of you didn’t last so long.

“y/n, i’m freaking out,” harry announces, zooming through your row to get over to you. he stops once he’s standing in front of peter and shakes him by his shoulder. “hey, pete. you made it.” “yup,” peter replies, pressing his lips together. you wince at his reaction, then quirk an eyebrow at harry. “you’re freaking out? why?”

harry sits down between you and peter, blissfully unaware of the moment he interrupted.

“i found the scout. he’s fucking terrifying as fuck. this super ripped guy, looks like he’d rather be anywhere else,” he talks quietly, like the man will hear him. “he’s not the only one,” peter says to himself, kicking around his bag of popcorn to pass time. you ignore him and grimace.

“shit. wait, how do you know it’s him? did they tell you?” you’re not sure how these things go. harry casually shrugs a shoulder. “dude has a clipboard. seems legit to me.” he gives you a cocky smile. “he’s also in the row before mj. that’s how i noticed. um...” his back now facing peter, he whispers something in your ear that makes you giggle.

peter’s face scrunches up as the spark of anger the past few days have lit reignites itself.

when harry pulls away, you motion for him to come closer with your index finger, cupping your hand around his ear and speaking into it.

nope, no more. peter is entirely about to explode. you cancelled your plans so you can force him to watch basketball, you sweet talk him so he’ll let it go, and you’re running right back to harry after all of that? what the hell does that mean?

peter stands up from his seat. “y/n, we need to talk,” he demands, you moving away from harry to respond. “ok, gimme a minute. we’re-“ “no, we need to talk now.” you don’t have time to refute because he’s taking your arm and dragging you away. harry squints at you in utter confusion.

“um, have a good game! we’ll talk later,” you call back to him, walking with peter even though you have no idea what his issue is and aren’t a fan of how he’s acting.

he releases you once you’re in the hallway. you make a point of harshly yanking your arm back, a scowl painting your lips. “jesus, peter. i was having a conversation.” “do you like harry?” peter blurts out. you’re so shocked at his abruptness that you don’t give him much to work with, only, “what?” “do you like harry?” he asks you again, this time less accusing and more curious.

“do i like...” you’re too aware of the seemingly hundreds of people surrounding you to answer comfortably. “can we talk about this somewhere else?” “sure,” peter nods, letting you lead the way since he did to get out here. you two go down the hall and choose the first room you see, which happens to be the custodian’s closet. it’s thankfully unlocked.

things were tense between you and peter on the way over, and it’s physically mirrored when you step into the room, air thick and smelling of lemon cleaning supplies. you tug on the string hanging down to turn on the light. it casts a faded glow, leaving you in mostly darkness. you sort of like it. this feels more intimate, which is fitting for what you’re both about to say.

neither one of you knows where to begin. peter’s question is ringing in the back of your mind, and you could touch on that, but there’s more to it than a simple yes or no. you don’t have to worry about it because peter gets his words out first.

“i think harry likes you, and i think you like him back,” peter restarts, already sounding deflated by what he came up with. “he doesn’t, and i don’t.” you take a step towards him. “he likes mj.” it’s peter’s turn to be shocked. the hint of a smile sets on your lips. “that’s what we were talking about. harry asked if he should take her to dinner after the game, and i said yes.”

this is going better than he expected.

“mj is the one who likes him, not me,” you reiterate and watch some life enter peter again, a tiny bit. he’s coming around, and he wants to believe you. his trust issues don’t. “but, you’re so... touchy with each other. the hugging the other day?” he mentions. you tilt your head to the side in amusement. “friends can’t hug?”

to be fair, you hugged peter yesterday. that’s a point rightfully shut down.

“he calls you pretty,” peter tries, raising both eyebrows. you have to laugh at this one. “you call may pretty.”

obviously, peter’s analysis skills could use some serious improvements. it sounds like he had the right idea, wrong person. your relationship with harry is platonic. hell, he’s crushing on a whole different person. this actually opens up the possibility of you liking peter in the romantic way, of him being in the something more zone. he had it backwards.

in case peter isn’t convinced yet, and because you really want to, you use one more trick to prove to him you don’t like harry.

“do me and harry do this?” your lips speak for you, colliding with peter’s unexpectedly yet easily. he feels like he’s floating, like he’s in some sort of magical wonderland until it hits him that this is real, and he should probably kiss you back. he does so softly and tangles his fingers in your locks. his hand supports the back of your head as the kiss goes on.

you push forward so your bodies are almost fused together, the closest you can be while you hold his jaw. peter breaks the kiss for a short breather, going back in without more than a moment passing. this one is feverish, his free arm looping around your lower back, hand resting on the small of it. you let out a giggle against his swollen lips and stroke your thumb over his jawline.

he’s been waiting to do this for the longest time, but he doesn’t have to tell you that. it shows in how eager he was to reciprocate, his shyness blossoming into passion. you feel yourself melting under his touch, the kiss eventually becoming a series of short pecks. peter gives you the final one. his pink lips form a grin when you pull apart. your hands stay on each other, not in a rush to go anywhere.

“woah, i like you so much,” peter laughs out. the words roll off his tongue naturally. “you know i like you,” you drawl, smiling at him, a full body smile while you caress his skin. he winds both arms around you and dips his head down to steal another kiss. you’re loving what’s happening. however, you don’t feel like making out while dirty brooms stare at you. you should take this back home.

“wanna get out of here? i do,” you suggest, voice muffled from his lips. they detach from yours and brush your cheek gently. peter makes a funny face. “hm, i thought we had to come. harry needs us,” he says what you did yesterday, earning a groan back. “you’re joking.” “i’m not. what kind of friends would we be, ditching him like that?”

he’s going to end you one day.

“yeah, no. i have no idea how basketball works, and i’d like to keep it that way,” peter drops the act, pressing his fingers into your sides. “i’ve been so mean to harry. i was...” “a dick?” you finish for him. it’s more of a statement than a question. to soften the blow, you rub his cheek with the tips of your fingers. “yup. he’s gonna think i hate him or something if we don’t stay.” his formerly smiley face is frowning.

“harry of all people will understand after we tell him our reasons,” you reassure him, nudging under his chin with your nose. “besides, he has other things to worry about. mj, the scout. it’s fine.” peter considers it, ultimately giving in to you like he always does, resting his forehead on yours. “i guess so. less distractions for him, yeah.” “exactly. that’s what i wanna hear.”

having his approval, you unwind yourself from him and head to the door. his fingers wrap around your wrist gently. “what about my popcorn?” a giggle escapes your lips. “you’re still on that?” “you said all i can eat!” his voice comes out high pitched, adorably high pitched.

“fine. i might have those bags you put in the microwave.” you smile when his fingers lock with yours, peter kissing the side of your head.

“even better. let’s go home.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Laisse tomber les filles 11

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; sexual acts and dubcon, possible untagged elements..

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: Thank;s for all your patience on this series.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You just wanted it to be over. The suffocating silence had you paralysed against the seat as the two men roiled in mutual loathing. Lee kept a hand on the wheel as his other kept wandering close to your skirt. You were embarrassed at his lack of shame.

Then it started. The whole seat shook with each kick of Andre’s feet against the back as he stomped the leather like a child. Lee jolted and gripped the wheel with both hands as he glared at the rear view mirror. He growled and cleared his throat.

“Boy, you don’t want to do this,” he snarled, “right now, you got one maybe two charges. I don’t care how rich your daddy is, I can have you at the station for months if I wanna.”

“Blah, blah, blah, you’re just small time, buddy,” Andre hissed, “gettin’ your kicks with college girls. It’s you who should be sitting back here--”

“And what were you doin’, boy? Houndin’ the girl across campus like ya do,” Lee retorted, “I’m tellin’ you one last time to shut your mouth.”

“Lee, please,” you murmured, “I just… please, just let him go and we can… um, be alone.”

“Oh yeah, she sounds real excited for your fat ass,” Andre chuckled.

“Andre,” you turned to peek over the seat, “I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t need your help…” Andre jutted out his jaw and looked out the window, “...slut.”

The silence pervaded the car again. Lee’s breath gristled in his throat but he said nothing at his cheek twitched. You sat back and hugged yourself as you watched the road through the windshield. The tension strangled you and you just rocked as you wished for it all to be over. You wanted to go back to your dorm and hide under your covers.

The way ahead grew darker and while you weren’t familiar with much beyond the campus, it didn’t seem to be the way to the station. You glanced over at Lee and fidgeted. Trees rose around you and the land plateaued before a long bridge that stretched over a loudly flowing river.

Lee slowed and killed the engine. A shiver crept up your spine as you got a bad feeling in your stomach. You watched him climb out as his weight shook the car. You held your breath, time slowing as you held your breath and watched him open Andre’s door. It was the younger man’s huffs that brought you back to reality.

The sheriff dragged him out and they struggled as you pushed yourself across the seat and got out on the driver’s side. Lee fought with Andre as he angled him around to the railing of the bridge. You followed and saw the dark shadows of the crashing river as it dipped down into a dam.

“Wait, wait,” you grabbed onto Lee as he turned Andre to face the water, “what are you doing?”

“Now, honey, you go back to the car, you don’ need to be out here,” he elbowed you away, “I’m just teaching the boy a lesson.”

“Lee, please, let’s go--”

“Go back to the car now, dammit, woman,” he snapped and you flinched at his tone.

“Fucking pig,” Andre spat, “oh, I’m so afraid--”

“Uh huh,” Lee grumbled and bent and grabbed Andre’s legs. He thrust him up and over the rail, dangling him there as his cuffed arms bent awkwardly behind him, “y’aint scared, I see.”

“Hey, hey, let me up,” Andre demanded, “you fucking pyscho.”

“Now I just want you to think about how you talk to authority, boy,” Lee taunted, “lots more I could do than close you in a cell for the night and give a meal to tide ya over, don’t ya think?”

“You’re fucked,” Andre swore, “get me up.”

“I got no problem lettin’ you up, I just wanna hear it,” Lee snickered.

“Here what?”

“Here you beg,” Lee sneered, “just like this girl’s gonna be beggin’ for me and not you--”

“Lee,” you uttered in shock.

“Honey, now, I won’t tell ya again--”

Lee stumbled back and his arms flew out as he tried to catch himself. You heard Andre scream and ran up to watch him plummet down into the depths, legs flailing and crashing with a terrible splash. You gasped and covered your mouth as he dissipated into the black waves.

“Shit,” Lee grumbled as he stood and came up next to you, “I told ya go back in the car, distractin’ me like that.” He grabbed your shoulder and squeezed, “ain’t ya a good girl? You know how to listen, don’t ya?”

“Andre,” you tried to shrug the sheriff away, “is he--”

“Even if his head still in one piece, he got them hands tied,” Lee tutted, “goddamn accident like that, tragic thing.”

“Why would you do that? Why would you hang him--”

You were stunned as Lee shot his hand up to grip your chin. He forced your mouth closed and pushed you against the rail as he closed you in with his size. He glared at you in the shadow of his headlights, “what are you sayin’, girl? You talkin’ back to me?”

“Please--”

He pressed his finger to your lips and shushed you, “please, nothing, honey. This is your fault. That boy be back on his feet if you weren’t out her naggin’ me. You aint my wife yet.”

“Lee--”

“Sir,” he corrected you and poked his finger into your mouth, “now, they gon find that boy and they’ll call me and I’ll make sure they don’t get a whiff of us. You know kids, into weird things these days, always where they don’t belong.”

You blinked at him as your eyes glossed and pushed another finger into your mouth and hummed, “well, looks like we can get on with our date, honey pie.”

📚

It wasn’t until the lights of the city blurred your tears that you realised you were crying. You were horrified by the man beside you and yourself. You kept seeing Andre falling, hearing his scream, hearing the sharp splash against the water. You imagined the way his bones would’ve cracked and his lungs would fill as he was helpless to escape the flow of the river.

When the car stopped, you winced and Lee grabbed your hand as it balled tightly in your lap. He pried your fingers open and laced his between them.

“Honey pie, I’m sorry I spoke to ya like that,” he purred, “it was only… I was worried for ya. I didn’t want ya to see all that. Just tryna protect you and all that.”

“Can you take me home--”

“Home? Is that small room really a home, honey?” he shifted closer to your on the street and caressed your cheek, “you seen my home, our home. I wanna share it with you.”

“I got school,” you wisped weakly as he let go of your hand and slid his arm over your shoulders, “I can’t--”

“What you learnin’ in that school? You don’t need none of it. History? You can read at home.”

“But I… worked so hard. I wanna learn--”

“Let’s not talk about this right now, honey pie,” he cradled your chin, “it’s been a long night.”

You looked down, too hollow to argue. You didn’t want to marry him, at least you didn’t think you did. You still had another three years of school at the end of the semester and you enjoyed your classes. You might be alone but you weren’t lonely.

“So, you read some?” he asked as his thumb tapped on your chin.

“Yes,” you said quietly, “a little.”

“That first chapter,” he said as he pressed your lip down, “you wanna try some of that?”

Your eyes widened and you gulped. You looked out the window and realised that you didn’t know where you were. You could push him away and climb out but you wouldn’t know where to go from there. And you couldn’t do all that. You were trapped.

“Sure,” you replied and kept from sobbing, there was no other answer he would accept.

“Alright,” he pulled away and stretched his arms across the seat, “like I said, honey, you take the lead.”

You gaped at him and felt his gaze in the dim. The headlights were off and you heard the distant sound of tires. You were all alone in the heart of the metropolis. You rubbed your hands together as you hesitated.

“Your mouth, honey pie,” he breathed, “I been thinking about it all day.”

You remembered the opening scene in the book, the explicit descriptions of the sloppy mess of the act. You inhaled deeply and told yourself not to be you, be the woman in the book, be Delilah, the temptress.

You reached for Lee’s fly before you could snap back to doubt and fear. You tugged at his belt clumsily as your hands shook and you pushed down his zipper. You felt him harden beneath his pants as you did and you sucked in a lungful of air.

Your lips quivered as he groaned and tilted his hips. You pushed his fly open and reached into his briefs. You gripped him and gasped.

“That’s all for you, honey pie,” he purred, “see what you do to me?”

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t find your voice in your tight throat. You licked your lips and braced yourself for what you were about to do. You’d come this far, there was no turning back.

[gunterfan1992]

Episode Review: ‘Together Again’ (Distant Lands, Ep. 3)

Airdate: May 20, 2021

Story by: Jack Pendarvis, Kate Tsang, Hanna K. Nyström, Christina Catucci, Jesse Moynihan, Adam Muto

Storyboarded by: Hanna K. Nyström, Anna Syvertsson, Iggy Craig, Maya Petersen, Serena Wu

Directed by: Miki Brewster (supervising), Sandra Lee (art)

Across Adventure Time’s ten season run, the show explored a bevy of “mature” themes and story ideas—topics, like love, sexuality, depression, and grieving. The show also touched upon death, but the emphasis was usually placed on the emotional toll of a loved one dying, not really what happens when you die. We knew there were Dead Worlds and Death. We knew that there was reincarnation. But how does it all fit together? What does it mean? How does it work?

With “Together Again,” we finally have many of the answers.

This special opens with a marvelous fake-out episode simply called “Finn & Jake,” that sees the two steal a magical cartoon of 50-flavor ice cream before rescuing Turtle Princess and LSP from the clutches of the villainous Ice King. This is all deliberately anachronistic and over the top. Ice King is back to his season one ways, Finn has both arms, and he is still wielding his golden sword that he lost in season two’s “The Real You.” There’s lolrandom dialogue and silly monsters; it’s like a parody of seasons 1-2. But then, this adventure starts to get all wonky, and in time Finn realizes that he is in a some sort of trance or illusion: one that ends with Jake being buried in the ground. Suddenly, Finn awakens from his reverie. He’s an old man. And he’s dead. We’re then presented with a new title card that lets us know the episode is actually called “Finn & Jake Are Dead.”

Holy Glob! They actually went there.

Turns out Jake died years before Finn, so naturally Finn is super excited to see his best bud. But something’s wrong—he cannot find Jake!! They planned to spend eternity together. But all that Finn can find is his very own psychopomp, Mr. Fox (voiced by Tom Herpich, whose purposefully stilted line readings are the epitome of delightful). Finn rightfully assumes that Jake is in a different Dead World, and so, being the ball of spunk and energy that he is, he demands to meet with Death, only to discover that there’s a New Death in town (voiced by Chris Fleming). The episode eventually explains that New Death was the son of Death and Life, and after New Death killed his father, he became the sovereign of the afterlife. New Death hates his job and decides to just blow up all the Dead Worlds so he doesn’t have to deal with it all. (I won’t get too much into the details here, because there would be a lot of story to parse out.)

Finn soon learns that Jake has reached nirvana in the 50th Dead World, where there is nothing but peace and serenity. Finn nevertheless tracks down Jake, pulls him from paradise, but in doing so, accidentally lets New Death in, who promptly obliterates Elysium, sending all the enlightened souls—including those from different levels of the afterlife—to the 1st Dead World. This gronks up the afterlife, temporarily halting the reincarnation process.

Well, Finn and Jake are rightfully ticked, and so they haunt the material plane looking for Princess Bubblegum. She’s not home (more on that later), but Peppermint Butler is! After Ghost Finn and Ghost Jake explain the situation, Peppermint Butler tells them what to do: They need to find Life and explain the situation. The duo manage just that, and Life is rightfully angry that her kid has stopped the transmigration of souls. After Life gives Finn a McGuffin sword that can hurt Death, Finn and Jake return to his abode. A brawl ensues wherein we learn that New Death has been possessed… by none other than that spirit of the Lich.

That’s right, it’s the Lich! He’s back, and boy is he evil.

The Lich explains that by possessing Death, he can destroy the afterlife, thereby destroying a key aspect of reality. Naturally, Finn and Jake are not cool with this, and they engage in combat. After Mr. Fox grabs the McGuffin sword and uses it to annihilate the Lich and New Death, he is proclaimed the New New Death and sets everything right. Finn is slated to be reincarnated, and Jake is slated to return to the 50th Dead World where he and Finn will one day be reunited. As Finn is pulled into the wheel of souls, Jake suddenly decides to go back with Finn, too, “Just for fun.” The episode ends with a card letting us know that the episode is neither called “Finn & Jake” nor “Finn & Jake Are Dead.” Instead, it is “Finn and Jake Are Together Again.”

As they say, “And there wasn’t a dry eye in the place.”

If you were to tell me several years ago that the last episode to star Finn and Jake would revolve around them dying, I think I would’ve been upset. Not simply sad, but rather frustrated because “they all died” can feel like a cheap ending. But with “Together Again,” it all works. And a large reason that it works is because the show goes all in with their ideas. Finn and Jake don’t magically leap back into their old life (no, no, they very much do bite the dust). Instead, the special emphasizes the cyclical nature of life through the transmigration of souls. The episode ends with a beautiful scene of Finn and Jake, bound together as soul-brothers, being reborn into a new, mysterious (possibly Ooo 1000+?) world. It’s both aesthetically and emotionally pleasing; it doesn’t feel off the way over finales might. This is right. This is the way life works. “Round and round as nature goes,” and all that jazz.

I loved the series explanation of how death works. It seems that souls land in a specific Dead World, where they ‘marinate’ for a bit, presumably being rewarded or punished based on their life in our meat reality. After a time, they are then reborn. This process repeats, with each soul reaching higher and higher levels of enlightenment until they hit nirvana, which is the 50th Dead World. So in a sense, Adventure Time has a roughly Buddhist cosmology with a dash of Greco-Roman mythos thrown in for flavor. (As to what happens after a soul stays in the 50th Dead World for a long period is anyone’s guess, but I’d speculate that when all the souls in the multiverse have been purified and land in the 50th Dead World, they will all collapse into one another and form one perfect Monad. Perhaps this is the sphere of perfection that the beings who merged into Matthew thought they were connecting to? Who knows! It’s anyone’s guess!) I was a little disappointed that we didn’t get to see who Death, Prismo, Life, etc.’s boss was, but perhaps that’s a mystery better left up to the imagination!

One minor thing that I loved about this special was the number of characters who made cameos as well as all the callbacks that were made to previous episodes. Regarding the former: Finn and Jake’s canine family show up (including the oft-forgotten Jermaine!), as do Tree Trunks and her myriad husbands. Tiffany plays a major role in all these shenanigans as a “death cop” of all things. There is a delightful rogues gallery stuck in the 1st Dead World (including, among others, Maja, Sharon from “The Gut Grinder,” and Wyatt). In the 50th we find Ghost Princess and Clarence happily at peace next to Booshy, the weird spirit mentioned in the Pen Ward classic “High Strangeness.” As far as callbacks go, perhaps my favorite is the clap (from “James Baxter the Horse”) that Jake taught to Finn in case they ever do get separated in the afterlife. And of course, there are myriad references made to “Death in Bloom,” the episode that planted the seed for what this would grow into.

Going into the special suspecting that it would involve Death, I was curious how they were going to handle Miguel Ferrer’s character. (In case a reader is not aware, Ferrer played Death in episodes like “Death in Bloom” and “Betty,” but he sadly passed away a few years ago). The producers’ choice to feature him in a non-speaking cameo—despite playing a relatively significant role in the story—was wise; I’m not sure if I can articulate the exact reasons, but something about his role felt appropriate and not gross, as some post-mortem memorials can be. Speaking of which, the wonderful, lovely Polly Lou Livingston was featured for the last time in this episode as Tree Trunks, happily in heaven with her literal harem of husbands. It was funny, it really was, and I’m sure that Polly Lou would’ve gotten a kick out of seeing it on screen. (Also, this is a pro-Tree Trunks safe space. Any Tree Trunks haters will be chucked into the 1st Dead World with Wyatt.)

The biggest mystery in this whole thing, for me at least, is the question of Princess Bubblegum and Marceline. Several years ago, I wrote an essay about what could’ve happened to them in the Ooo 1000+ universe. I speculated that they peaced out and left Ooo behind. In this special, neither Bubblegum nor Marceline are to be found in the Candy Kingdom—Peppermint Butler seems to be the one in charge, given that he is now wearing Bubblegum’s crown. Likewise, the duo aren’t anywhere in the Dead Worlds either. Maybe the two of them skipped town and got a duplex in the Nightosphere? Who knows… I just want my favorite gals to be OK!

All things considered, “Together Again” was a marvel: An episode that managed to feel like a series finale even more than “Come Along with Me” already did without taking away from the series itself. An episode that managed to make the idea of dying funny. An episode that brought back the Lich in a way that wasn’t forced. An episode that made Mr. Fox the New New Death. An episode that gave us a beautiful ending to Finn and Jake’s story… as well as the beautiful beginning to a new one. I said it on Twitter, and I’ll say it again here: “Together Again” was the end of a sentence in a book with infinite pages. Truly, the fun will never end.

Mushroom War evidence: Everything takes place in the Dead Worlds, so not really. Perhaps a more eagle-eyed viewer can inform us...

Final Grade: That’s right, I’m gonna do it...

Post-script, I actually messaged Jesse Moynihan to ask about his writing credit. He told me that it was for an unused story idea that he had developed. I’m not certain, but I’ll bet it was a part of the cancelled TV movie they were trying to make during season 5, since that would’ve seen Finn and Orgalorg journey to the various Dead Worlds.

[bubsdolan]

Woah!!! Part 2 to Reader getting in an accident after an arguement with Gray???

{part 1}

there were many moments in grayson dolan’s 21 years on earth where he felt incredibly blessed to have a twin brother, especially one like ethan. from being his best friend and number one supporter in anything, to sharing food and girl advice, learning and growing together and being grayson’s right hand man through life,  he had never been more grateful to have ethan by his side in this moment. 

that and the fact ethan had purchases a car that can exceed a speed of up to 199.5 mph, meant they wasted no time in getting grayson to the hospital to be reunited with you.

as he sat in the passenger seat, legs bouncing uncontrollably with fear and anxiousness, tears softly rolling down his cheeks, he clutched tightly to the stuffed animal in his hands. a sight for anyone who would laugh at a 200 pound man, crying and cuddling a teddy. 

petal, your stuffed elephant, was a childhood teddy your mother had given you the day you were born. you never slept without petal, she was a third wheel in your relationship with grayson as she offered you the same comfort he did every night being away from family home. home was anywhere grayson was, but petal was also a piece of the family you left behind when staffing a new life with the man you loved.

grayson knew you better than anyone and he could guarantee that when you woke up, because he wholeheartedly knew you were- his strong brave girl and you couldn't leave him- that petal would be the first thing you would want to see as much as his angel eyes. the stuffed animal also brought grayson a sense of comfort and reassurance having her with him. 

grayson didn't even allow ethan the chance to drive into the car park of the emergency room before he was taking off and sprinting to the reception desk. teddy in hand as he panted out your first and last name. shocking the nurse at his panicked state, dishevelled appearance and the continuous fidgeting on the heels of his feet. 

“y/n-y/n y/l/n… she’s in a coma. pleas-please i need to see her. she needs- she needs me.” 

“may i ask your relationship to the patient?” 

growing impatient, grayson raises his temper to the next level. the longer he was kept away from you, the more agitated he became.

“my girlfriend is fighting for her life right now! i need to see her, i don’t have time for this!”

“bro-” ethan came running in, throwing the tesla in the first available space before jogging after his fragile brother and coming to be the calm, sensible one in this situation. “let me handle it.”

reluctantly grayson stood off to the side, his ears perking and eyes desperately following every patient being rushed through the automatic doors, every doctor or nurse walking past him with sympathetic looks. he hoped someone would tell him what's going on and where you were. the waiting game was torture, but it was only just beginning. 

“they’re gonna take us to her now, c’mon.” ethan pulls grayson down the maze like corridors to where the receptionist who he had to apologise profusely for his twins attitude earlier, lead them to the room where apart of grayson was fighting for her life. fighting for his life. he was nothing without you. 

ethan let grayson walk in first, accidentally colliding into the back of grayson as he stood frozen outside the door and mentally prepared himself for a sight he never wished to see. his breathing hitched as he took in the sight of you battered and braised. covered head to toe in a mixture of dirt, dried blood and bandages, as the only thing keeping you alive right now were the medical tubes swarming your precious body. 

grayson felt his heart shatter into a million pieces inside him. he couldn’t help but feel tears well up in his eyes, imagining how bad your accident had been to the point where you were put into a coma and how he wasnt there to protect you like he has always promised. he pictured how scared you must have been, all alone and defenceless.

with rushed but easy strides, grayson was at your side before ethan even got the chance to thank the nurse and follow behind. not wanting to cause you any further pain or discomfort, grayson gently placed petal under your arm, keeping her close to your body and secure so you wouldn't lose her even in your unconscious state. with a shakey breath, he plants a soft kiss on yours then petals forehead, his own slient way of commciaing to you that he was there. that you had nothing to worry about because he was finally there to protect you. 

“hey my sweet girl. im right here, im here and i love you. so much.”

“fight for me yeah? for us.”

grayson automatically took the seat next to your hospital bed, reaching forward to hold your hand kindly in his own as he vowed to himself he wouldn’t leave your beside until you woke up. no matter how long it was going to take. weeks, months, years, he was willing to wait for you. 

grayson vividly remembered being told that the brain of a coma patient may continue to work. it might “hear” the sounds in the environment, like the footsteps of someone approaching or the voice of a loved one speaking. he made sure to continually talk to you about everything and anything on his mind. referencing back to the time you would take late night drives and talk about life hand in hand and contently in love.

when discussing your future together on a late night monty’s run, this definitely wasn’t how he envisioned it would turn out to be. what once was a shared dream, was now a shared nightmare.

“e’s here too.”

“hey squirt.” ethan felt stupid speaking aloud to someone who wouldn't respond to him, but the small smile it coaxed on grayson’s face, after hours of sadness, made it worth while. grayson always valued the sibling friendship you and ethan shared. he didn’t even pause for a minute to think about your accident had affected him also, until he hard the nickname ethan often uses to tease you.

swallowing the lump in his throat, grayson spoke up again. 

“im sorry. im so fucking sorry. i meant nothing i said earlier, fuck im an idiot. i love you baby, always and forever.”

“we aren't going anywhere you hear me. you come back to us ok, show me those pretty eyes of yours baby. let me hear your laugh, let me see your smile, you gotta wake up for me- please wake up for me.”

grayson begged and pleaded with your unresponsive body. the sound of your heart rate monitor being the only sign you gave him as his eyes focused on your lifeless body. desperately hoping for so much as a flinch from you or a miracle to happen.

he caressed your hand slowly, continuing to cry silently as he looked over to you, feeling like this was all his fault. “i’m sorry” he choked out, resting his head down against the back of your hand. “this is all my fault. i’m so sorry baby.”

grayson wish you could say something back, even if it was to spite him and call him out for his outburst hours earlier. he just wanted to hear your voice again.

“grayson, none of this was your fault!” ethan was quick to jump to grayson’s defence, hating the way his brother was beating himself up over something that was out of his control. ethan feared how grayson would react if the worst case scenario of turning your life support machine off would happen. it didn’t bare to think about.

hearing a knock at the door, grayson wiped his tears quickly before turning to see the doctor was approaching grayson with a warm smile. grayson felt a sense of relief finally meeting the incredible man tasked with saving your life.

“here’s some personal belongings that they recovered at the scene. this seemed to be the only thing to survive the terrible ordeal.” he said, handing grayson an all to familiar box of the watch brand he had non stop being gushing about.

as the doctor made his swift exit, promising to return shortly and check on your progress, grayson opened the box to reveal the item that causes you to end up where you were right now. with no pieces of his heart left to break, grayson felt numb.

the engraving of the date grayson first told you he loves you, joined together by your pairing initials, elegantly graced the under face of the watch. he swapped his old one with the new, staring down at the jewellery on his wrist that held a brand new meaning from the simple pleasure of owning it, he planned to never take it off. 

everything seem to make sense now. the guy in the scandalous photo become Crystal clear as he recognised him to be the gentlemen from his brief encounter when trying to surprise ethan with a housewarming gift. much like what you were doing for grayson. he realised it now, when it was too late.

you never cheated on him. you never betrayed him. never used him. he discredited the great lengths you went to in order to surprise him with his dream watch. his own insecurities and the fact he was easily manipulated by twitter fingers and his so called fans, may be the reason you never wake up. 

was this watch the only thing to survive the accident? grayson was about to find out.

{part 3}